


Between the Dusk and the Dawn

by ZairaA



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Arthur Knows, Banter, Destiny, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Protectiveness, Psychological Trauma, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, magical beasts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-14 13:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 55,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1267888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZairaA/pseuds/ZairaA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Arthur is sixteen his father deems him ready to lead the knights on his first mission, which is to take care of a druid camp that has sprung up within the borders of Camelot. In the midst of chaos and bloodshed that leaves Arthur guilt-ridden, he manages to save one boy whom he swears to protect at any cost. </p><p>Over the years Merlin becomes so much more than Arthur's redemption, but is Arthur ready to accept their shared destiny, his own feelings for the younger boy and the chance for love Merlin is offering him?</p><p>(underage tag for Merlin being 16 - Arthur is 21)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merlocked18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merlocked18/gifts).



> **A few more words about the warnings:** Violence refers to the attack on the druid camp, it's not all blood and gore but there are some vivid images. Age difference is 4.5 years. In the first part Arthur and Merlin are 16/11 in the second they are 21/16. Underage: Nothing sexual happens until Merlin is 16.
> 
>  **On a more personal note...** This story ate my brain and life but I had such a blast working with the wonderful, talented and incredible awesome [Merlocked18](archiveofourown.org/users/Merlocked18). Please go and give her all the love [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1299970)! There's additional art!! Merls, thank you so much for this stupidly perfect collab, for cheering me on and holding my hand and making so much gorgeous art out of my pitiful words! I've been a lucky, lucky bitch and don't think you'll ever be rid of me again! THIS IS THE START OF A BEAUTIFUL FRIENDSHIP!! ;) *hugs* 
> 
> All my love and gratitude to [Ceewelsh](archiveofourown.org/users/Ceewelsh) who betaed along while I was writing and [RocknVaughn](archiveofourown.org/users/RocknVaughn) who swept in at the end and whipped this into shape like a whirlwind of amazeballs - you are both awesome! Thank you!

 

 

_...In a land of myth and a time of magic two boys were born from the old religion, through magic and love and sacrifice. One was destined to become the king of legends, the other to become the greatest warlock who ever lived. More than anything though, they were destined to find each other, despite their differences and against all odds, because one could not be whole without the other..._

 

Merlin hated runes. They were stupid and useless and he didn't understand why he had to learn them when he didn't need them - had never needed them, just like he didn't need stupid things like spells. Merlin's magic had always been a wild, bubbling feeling inside of him, an eager companion willing to please, if slightly over-enthusiastic at times. It was part of him and so it sparked, bright and golden, when he was happy and became dark and gloomy when he was sad. The druids didn't like it, though. They wanted him to control it and channel it and force it into forms – forms defined by things like runes. When Merlin had come to live with them, a little over a month ago, learning about magic had sounded a lot more interesting than it turned out to be.

Sighing, Merlin looked down at the leather-bound book in his lap. It was a beautiful summer's day and he would have loved to go down to the stream, maybe try getting across it by balancing on the slick stones or watch the family of beavers building their dam a little further up. Instead he was stuck with the book of runes and bored out of his mind.

It wasn't that Merlin didn't like the druids, he did. Especially Ansgar, the leader of the camp, who was a tall, patient man with a twinkling smile around his eyes. Most times Merlin even liked Treva, his wife, even though she would look at him with stern eyes and a grim line to her mouth whenever Merlin used his magic to conjure butterflies or let the bowls and spoons he was supposed to clean dance around in a wild roundel. Apparently he wasn't supposed to use magic in such a frivolous way because there needed to be a balance, and there were always consequences, and he would never fulfil his destiny if he kept acting like a child. Merlin huffed inwardly. He was almost twelve. And if nature sought balance and his magic disturbed it, then why did it keep acting completely on its own accord?

This was only one of many things Merlin didn't really understand. The druids, while friendly and welcoming, were a closely knit community, with strange habits and even stranger rituals. They talked to each other in their minds, and did the same with Merlin, which always made him jump. It felt rude, like they didn't even grant him the privacy of his own head. The worst thing though, was the weird sort of reverence with which they treated him, even the few children that lived in the camp, and how they insisted on calling him _Emrys_ – which wasn't his name, no matter what the druids said. They never quite came out and explained, but it was clear that they expected great things from him, things Merlin couldn't even fathom but that settled like a heavy weight on his much-too-bony shoulders. It made him stand apart once more – like he always had – when all he really wanted was to finally fit in somewhere.

Merlin had been different for as long as he could remember and he had always wondered why. His mother used to tell him that there was a purpose to his abilities and one day he would find it. Still, there had been times when Merlin wished it would just go away, that he could be like anybody else. While having magic had been quite useful and a lot of fun when he was younger, Merlin's powers grew with every passing year and it was hard to stop himself from using them instinctively. In the end, his magic was the reason he had to leave his home, his mother and the only friend he ever had.

After the long series of ever increasingly unexplainable events that marked Merlin's childhood, the others in the village had come to regard him with more and more suspicion. But when he saved a little boy who had lost his grip while climbing the large, old oak tree, by _maybe_ stopping time, things got even worse. No one had said anything at the time, but the looks people gave him turned worried, sometimes even frightened.

At first, Merlin had been certain that things would blow over, like they always did, but then King Cenred's men had come to the village, and Merlin's mum turned pale as a ghost. It was no secret that the king was always looking for people with magical talents. There was even a price for those who brought him a sorcerer. Merlin had only vague ideas what the king wanted with them, but he knew they were expected to serve him and would be drafted into his army even at as young an age as Merlin's. So when Cenred's men approached the village, his mum had told him to run and hide in the forest and that was the last time Merlin had seen his home. He had not even been able to say goodbye to Will properly. His mum had packed his things and sent him to the druids, so that he could be safe and learn more about his abilities.

That had been a little over a month ago, and Merlin still thought about running away and going back to Ealdor every day. He missed his old life; it had seemed so much simpler and more cheerful. And while he had been a bit of an outsider in Ealdor too, at least he had people who loved him, people to whom he was just Merlin. But the danger had not passed and Merlin knew, deep in his heart, that his mother was better off without him.

At night though, he would lie awake and look up at the stars, wondering what was so special about him. He didn't want to be special if it meant that he would always be alone, and so all he could do was hope that this grand destiny of his would someday lead him to the place he could truly belong.

The air was heavy and stale in the council chamber, dust motes dancing in a shaft of sunlight. Arthur had difficulties stifling a yawn. The weather outside was beautiful, would have been perfect for practising his sword moves on the training grounds or galloping through Camelot's fields and forests on the back of his stallion. Instead, he was stuck inside where the royal council had been in session for hours.

At sixteen, Arthur was the youngest member by far, and there to learn about the running of the kingdom more than anything. In the beginning, when he had still cherished the illusion that his father would grant him an opinion, or at least listen to his ideas, he had been rather excited about it, but he soon had come to realise that his father didn't appreciate new and different views very much. He also came to understand that many of the issues the council had to handle reflected more upon the vanity and self-importance of certain members of the court than the well-being of the kingdom and its citizens. So at times, the lesson he was struggling the most with was that of patience.

The issue at hand right now revolved around the size of the quarters allocated to one Lord, the number of servants for another and some sort of affront that had hereby been dealt to one of them. Arthur had admittedly stopped listening by now and, as the complaints and squabbling kept going on and on, he was seriously starting to contemplate knocking himself out on the table. He hated to sit still for any prolonged amount of time on the best of days, but a hit he'd taken in training had left him a little sore as well, and so he tried to shift in his seat without anyone noticing, rolling his left shoulder.

Of course this gained him a stern frown from his father almost immediately, and Arthur stiffened, willing himself not to blush. His father had no patience for anything less than a perfect demeanour and so Arthur took a deep breath and straightened, ignoring the pain that caused him.

Since Arthur was his father's only heir, he had been groomed for the role from the moment he could walk, and he had always strived to please him. Arthur had become a squire when he was ten, gained the full knighthood when he was fifteen, and was now – only a little over a year later – already one of the best fighters in the whole kingdom. Still, he could never quite shake the feeling that there was something profusely wrong with him.

The fact that he must be deficient somehow had become apparent to him the year he turned six. It was the year Morgana, the daughter of his father's oldest friend, came to live with them after her parents' death. Morgana was a volatile, slightly mulish creature, who could be just as cruel as she could be kind, but she had a secret ability: she knew how to make Uther Pendragon smile.

However much he tried, Arthur couldn't remember his father ever bestowing him with such an expression – open and indulging, his normally stern blue eyes sparkling with a gentler emotion. Whenever his father looked at Arthur it was with a hard line to his mouth, eyebrows raised expectantly or drawn together in a frown, and there was always a lingering sadness in his eyes.

Arthur learned the reason for that when he tried to offer Morgana his condolences, earnest and shy if a little awkward. The older girl immediately informed him that he didn't need to feel sorry for her because she, at least, had not killed her own mother the day she was born. Arthur had been too shocked to say anything, and then ran away to his rooms where he had hidden himself behind his bed and cried in huge, wrecked sobs of terror. He had always thought it a little unfair that he did not have a mother, but it had never occurred to him that this might be his own fault. No wonder that his father had no smiles for Arthur.

From that point on, Arthur always felt the need to somehow make up for a deed he had committed simply by being born. He knew it was unlikely to ever gain his father's affection, but he vowed that, if he could not make his father happy, at least he would do everything in his ability to make him proud. And even though his efforts seemed to always fall short, it didn't keep him from trying. If nothing else, Arthur was determined.

~~*~~

When the bickering Lords had finally finished, Arthur was mentally already half way down to the stables. But before his father could give the sign for the end of council, Sir Caradoc stood up, turning towards the king. The older knight had been a trusted advisor of Uther since long before Arthur's birth and had led many campaign in his name. He was a clever tactician, but he was also a hard and merciless man.

''Sire, there's another matter I want to bring to your attention.''

The sharp voice cut through the room, and Uther frowned for a moment but then gave a small nod, indicating for Sir Caradoc to continue.

The man's cold grey eyes swept over the other council members, and when he spoke again there was a quiet rage underlining his words. ''There have been reports, yet unspecific but still more than rumours, about a druid camp close to the border of Essetir. It seems they are trying to settle there permanently. At first, I couldn't believe it, but it has since been confirmed by another source of mine.''

A shocked murmur went through the assembly at Sir Caradoc's words. The older knight held lands in said region and any source of his was most likely valid. Within the blink of an eye the mood in the room changed, turning from drowsy into worried tension. Arthur himself was mostly surprised. As far as he knew, there had been no druids sighted within the borders of Camelot since the days of the Purge. The war against magic had been won and the old religion banished when Arthur was nothing more than a toddler, and most magic users knew better than to come to Camelot these days. So having a whole group of them settle openly within its borders seemed like a foolish provocation.

''Druids?'' Arthur's father asked after a moment, from the head of the table. It was quite apparent that he, too, wasn't sure what to make of this news, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes and a grim line to his mouth that made something cold settle in Arthur's stomach.

''Yes, Sire. A full settlement it seems.''

''They must know that Camelot will not tolerate this. What could they be planning?''

''The druids have always considered themselves guardians of a sort, Sire.'' It was Gaius, the court physician, who had spoken up. His was always a thoughtful voice in the council.

''Guardians to what?'' Uther asked scornfully, obviously unimpressed.

''The balance, Sire, of nature and of magic. They often settle at places where the magical energy is especially strong. It could be the reason they chose that location.''

''Well, they should know better,'' Sir Caradoc spat. ''We can't allow for the situation to continue. These people embrace the old religion and harbour magic users in their midst. They are a danger that needs to be eliminated.''

''The druids are largely a peaceful people,'' Gaius calmly pointed out.

''No one who holds on to the ways of the old religion and doesn't recant the seductive corruption of magic can be seen as anything but a threat.'' Sir Caradoc turned back to the head of the table, where Uther was listening with a calculating expression on his face. ''Your Majesty, if you so will, I can take a troop of men to investigate and handle the issue.''

Arthur, who had been watching the exchange with rapt attention, saw Gaius flinch almost imperceptibly at Sir Caradoc's words. Silence reigned as the council awaited the king's decision.

''We will send a troop of men up there,'' his father finally said, with deceptive calm. ''But I want Arthur to lead them.''

A collective intake of breath followed that declaration, and Arthur straightened in his chair, trying to look calm and collected. He'd been trained to fight pretty much since he could walk and hold a weapon, but this would be the first mission where he took the responsibility of leadership. That his father deemed him ready for it filled Arthur with pride, but he knew just as well as anyone present that this was supposed to be a test.

''Arthur?'' Sir Caradoc asked after a moment of hesitation, unable to completely mask his surprise and doubts. ''Sire, are you sure that-''

''It will be a good opportunity for him to prove himself.''

Arthur raised his chin. ''I promise I will not fail you, Father.''

Piercing blue eyes turned on him. ''Which is what I expect from you. You've proven yourself to be a strong fighter already, but it takes more than that to lead men into battle. You must be able to make the necessary decisions, whether you like them or not.''

''Yes, Father.''

''I will send Sir Caradoc with you,'' Uther continued with a nod at the man. ''He has experience and deeper knowledge of the region. Take a dozen more men. You'll ride at dawn.''

With that Uther rose, signalling the end of council. As he walked past him, Arthur felt his father's hand come down heavily on his shoulder. The words were not spoken, but Arthur heard them anyway: _Do not disappoint me, son._

~*~

It had taken them almost two days to reach the valley where the reports had placed the druid settlement, and Arthur halted the men on a ridge, overlooking the sloping stretch of thick forest beneath them. Slender pillars of smoke were rising out of the tree tops in the distance, which seemed to confirm the rumours.

Sir Caradoc reined in his horse next to Arthur's. ''If we circle around from both sides, we should be able to take them by surprise and prevent any of them from getting away,'' he said grimly.

Arthur nodded. It seemed like a good plan, but there was something in the older man's demeanour – in this whole set up really – that didn't sit right with Arthur and made him nervous. The scene in front of them looked so peaceful, and Arthur couldn't help but wonder what they would find when they reached the camp. He had fought against mercenaries and knights, against bandits and smugglers, but never against sorcery. Were there magic users down there, ready to draw upon unnatural forces, or would they find a camp full of families? Women and children and elderly people? Swallowing down hard on his fears, Arthur turned around in the saddle to address the men.

''I want you all to remember that we don't know yet what we'll find at the camp. You need to be on your guard, but it might just as well be that these people aren't a threat at all. If it's a settlement, there might be women and children, they need to be spared in any case. I will take six men and circle around the village from the left. Sir Caradoc, and the rest of you will go right.''

They parted with a sharp nod, and Arthur urged his horse onward, down the slope and into the valley. Taking a wide berth at first, they finally left the horses behind and ventured on by foot, treating carefully to not alert the camp of their approach just yet. The forest around them was lush and seemed to be brimming with wildlife. The afternoon sun filtered through the green of the leaves and there was a brook gurgling somewhere nearby. It was ridiculously idyllic, but Arthur knew that such things could be deceptive and danger could lie down even the most beautiful of paths.

Just as if this thought had been a premonition, from one moment to the next, all hell broke loose. Suddenly there were panicked shouts ahead and then a strong wind whipped through the trees, tearing off leaves all around them and stirring up the dry earth. Arthur tried to shield his eyes against the clouds of dust, the force of the gust almost making him stagger.

Most of Arthur's men were seasoned knights of the realm, but even they turned pale, casting around shocked and worried looks before they rushed ahead through the trees, swords drawn and stealth forgotten. The sounds of battle were ringing through the forest now: the clang of swords, the neighing of horses and screams – terrified and sometimes with the sort of gurgling choke that every warrior knew by heart.

Arthur had no idea what he expected to find really – an army of sorcerers maybe or some sort of trap that Sir Caradoc's party had walked into blindly – but when he crested a slope and saw the camp before him, the blood froze in his veins.

The camp was on fire, and bodies were strewn on the ground, bloody and twisted, like broken dolls. In between the flames, the smoke and the debris, Arthur could still see humble signs of everyday life: a ripped down clothes line, cooking utensils, or a broken weaver's beam. People were running, panic-stricken, and the knights of Camelot were cutting down who ever came before their swords. Too shocked to really comprehend what was happening and why, Arthur stumbled forward, trying to get into the midst of it, to do what he had no idea, but he had to do _something_. He needed to stop this madness, had to gain control of the situation, but he had no idea how.

Two men came rushing at him, one with a sword and one with what looked like a huge axe, and for the next couple of minutes all Arthur could do was to concentrate on deflecting blows and keeping his limbs attached. Having managed to fight off his attackers, he looked up to see a blue ball of fire fly from the outstretched hand of a tall man. The air was crackling with something foreign and wild. _Magic_ , he thought with a stuttering heart. There must have been sorcerers in the camp after all. Had they been the one to attack the group of knights? Or were the druids just resorting to this kind of means to defend themselves? Whatever the case might be, everything Arthur had ever learned told him that sorcery and those who practised it were dangerous and evil and needed to be destroyed.

He tried to harden himself against the dying cries of what he knew were not just warriors, but women and children. According to the law, anyone harbouring a sorcerer deserved the death penalty. Arthur knew his father would not show these people mercy and would expect Arthur not to do it either, but everything in him rebelled at the sight of this slaughter. His eyes caught on a small hand, sticking out from what looked like a collapsed and broken tent, still holding onto a doll made out of rags. A little further down lay a young woman, her face concealed by long dark hair, clotted from where it rested in a pool of her own blood.

Bile rose up in Arthur's throat and he had to press a hand to his mouth, fighting off the urge to vomit and swallowing against the bitter taste of soot that clogged the back of his throat. He tried to call out, tried to call the men to order, but his voice was nothing but a croak, unable to carry and unable to make a difference. It was as if time had slowed, and Arthur couldn't say whether it was some sort of spell or his own mind playing tricks on him, but he saw each gruesome detail in stark relief: the bright glint of a sword cutting down a boy barely into puberty, the splash of blood as Sir Gareth was skewered by a pitchfork coming out of nowhere and the frightened eyes of a woman clouding over as she was knocked aside and broke her neck against a rock.

Then something hit him from behind and Arthur fell to his knees, blinking as the world mercifully dissolved into Pendragon red and the grey of smoke and ashes.

He woke to silence but, when he tried to blink his eyes open, he realised that it wasn't a natural quiet but more like the complete absence of sound, almost as if he was deaf. Something red blurred his vision and Arthur wiped a hand over his face; it came away bloody. The back of his head was thrumming with a dull sort of pain, and when he tried to sit up, he had to close his eyes as the world started to spin around him.

When he opened his eyes again, the sight of the camp hit him like a fist in the guts. It was gone. All that was left were burned down remains, obliterated by the black smoke wafting over the area. There were bodies, a lot of them, still and broken. A few wore the red cloaks of Camelot's knights but most were dressed like simple peasants. The only ones left standing, the only ones still alive, were a handful of knights making their way through the rubble, nudging and searching for any other sign of life.

''Sire!''

The call came from behind him and Arthur scrambled around to see Sir Caradoc, face smeared with soot and flecks of blood but otherwise apparently unharmed.

''What... what happened?'' Arthur croaked, and then, almost desperately, ''I told you to spare them!''

''Sire, they were using magic,'' the older knight said as if he was explaining the facts of life to a child.

''The- the children...''

''We were attacked.''

For Sir Caradoc it really was as simple as that.

''There must have been another way! Surely there was no need to-''

''Sire, these people used magic. Dark and powerful magic. We had no way to know who was a threat and who wasn't.''

Arthur kept silent. All he could think of was the child with the doll and that there was no way it could have posed a threat to the knights of Camelot. He pushed himself up and turned away from Sir Caradoc, blinking when his surroundings blurred from the moisture in his eyes. He could have explained it away by the smoke irritating him, but he'd rather not let the other man see the tears he wiped away with a swift palm.

''Look for any survivors,'' he pressed out through a throat that felt raw. ''See if anyone can still be saved.''

''Of course, Sire.''

Arthur stumbled away from the centre of the destruction then, the smell of death making him sick like never before. It wasn't just the violence and the bloodshed – to that he was accustomed, at least to some extent. It was the leaden weight of guilt and shame and desperate regret, the cutting knowledge that he couldn't undo what had been done and that the lives that had been ended had done so under his command. As he staggered through the debris, Arthur could think of nothing but how desperately he had failed. Whatever his father might say about it, whatever his fellow knights might think, what had happened here was horrible and wrong and Arthur should have stopped it. Even if there had been magic users in the camp, there had been woman and children and they had died because Arthur had been too slow, too weak and too hesitant. This was the inescapable, unforgivable truth.

He knew he was a coward for it, but he couldn't look at the bodies, didn't want to find out what the child lying buried under the rubble looked like. Another wave of nausea hit him and Arthur turned towards the far side of the camp, remembering that he'd heard the sound of a brook when they approached this place, what felt like days ago now. He just needed some water for his parched throat, needed to get the taste of death and slaughter out of his mouth.

Away from the smoking camp, the sun was still shining, painting golden spots on the forest floor, but the trees around Arthur were devoid of any rustling or birdsong now. All he could hear was the wind softly stirring the branches and the purling of the water in front of him. He fell to his knees next to the gently lapping water, down into the muddy earth and leaves, and dipped his blood-smeared palms under the surface. He rubbed and scratched at them, his chest heaving with huge, shuddering breaths that were no sobs, yet, but close. Finally he just stared at the frigid water as it ran over his almost bluish hands, the numbness almost a relief.

He felt like he had sat like that for years when he heard a shuffling sound and a soft sniffle from behind him. In the unnatural stillness of the forest, it was sharp and much too loud. Arthur's battle-sharpened instincts had him whipping around whilst drawing his sword, but when he saw what had made the sound, his weapon fell from bloodless fingers.

 

 There was a boy cowering a little further to his left, his back pressed against a big looming rock. He looked young, maybe ten or eleven, definitely not in his teens yet, and he was staring at Arthur with wide, frightened blue eyes.

''Sire?'' Arthur heard the voice of one of the knights just then, and his heart stopped. ''Is there anyone down there?''

Before Arthur could even think about it, he had pressed a finger to his lips, signalling the druid boy to be silent. He didn't know how or why the boy had survived the slaughter, but Arthur knew he couldn't let anyone find him.

He swallowed heavily, but his voice was calm and steady when he called, ''No, there's no one here! Go back to the others, I'll be with you shortly.''

He kept his eyes on the boy, whose body had gone completely stiff – so much so that Arthur wasn't sure whether he was still breathing. He waited for the sound of the retreating footsteps, and only when he couldn't hear them anymore did he slowly step forward, his hands held out in front of him placatingly.

''Don't be scared,'' he whispered, his voice breaking a little. ''I promise, I won't harm you.''

The boy just kept staring.

''Are you hurt?'' He didn't look like it, but Arthur wanted to be sure.

The boy shook his head.

Arthur slowly came closer and crouched down in front of the boy's huddled form.

''Were... your parents, were they...?'' He couldn't say it but the boy seemed to understand what he meant. He shook his head again.

''But you lived at the camp? You're one of the druids?''

A tremble ran through the boy's whole body, but he gave Arthur a little nod. It was clear that he was scared out of his mind, but he didn't look away. Arthur sank down to his knees, sitting on his haunches and leaning forward until he had to look up to the smaller boy.

''I'm sorry for what happened here,'' he choked out. ''I'm so sorry. I tried to stop them. I told them to spare those who didn't attack us, the... the women and children... but I failed. It's my fault and I'm so, so sorry.'' He drew in another shuddering breath, and looked down to where the boy's hands seemed to be clutching a small wooden toy. When he looked back up, Arthur's eyes were determined and beseeching. ''I won't let them hurt you, you hear? I swear it. I'll protect you.''

The boy raised a trembling hand then, and gingerly touched it to Arthur's cheek. He swallowed audibly before he whispered, almost too softly to be heard, ''You're crying.''

Arthur quickly wiped the back of his hand over his eyes, but he couldn't find it in him to feel embarrassed.

''I'm sorry.''

He didn't know what else to say, and the boy didn't speak another word. He had to be in shock. Arthur didn't want to imagine what he might have seen, hoped he had maybe just hidden here and had not seen anything. The sound of the battle and the screams would have been horrifying enough.

''Sire?'' It was Sir Caradoc this time, and Arthur knew he couldn't keep stalling.

''I'm coming!'' he called back before he urgently touched the boys shoulder. ''You have to stay here and hide, do you hear me? I don't know what they would do, but... It's not safe. I promise I'll come back for you, all right? Wait for me here. I'll come back.''

The boy nodded and, in an instinctive move he couldn't quite explain, Arthur cupped a hand around the back of the boy's head and pressed his lips against the soft, black hair where it curled over the boy's temple. He felt a shudder running through the slender body and then arms wrapped around Arthur and the boy clung to him as if Arthur was his lifeline.

''Sire?'' There were footsteps coming closer, and Arthur knew that if he didn't want anyone to find the druid boy, he could not stay another second.

''I've got to go,'' he said worriedly and gently pried the boys arms away from his neck. He was about to get up and grab his sword from the floor, when he hesitated, turning back to the shivering child.

''What's your name?'' he whispered.

Large, liquid pools of blue stared at Arthur, and for a moment he thought he wouldn't get an answer at all.

Then there was a small whisper. ''Merlin.''

''Merlin...''

Knowing the boy's name was as painful as it was a relief. It made him less of a ghost and more of a person. ''I'm Arthur,'' he said in a rush, taking the boy by the shoulders and squeezing them gently. ''And I promise I'll come back for you. I'll be back tonight.''

The boy nodded again, although he didn't really look convinced. It couldn't be helped, Arthur had not another second to spare. He picked up his weapon and stumbled up the bank towards the older knight waiting for him with a suspicious frown.

''Did you find anything?'' Arthur inquired before Sir Caradoc could ask any uncomfortable questions of his own.

The knight looked at him for a long moment, as if he was searching for something. Then he shook his head. ''No. There are no survivors from the camp. Sir Gareth and Sir Patrick are dead, two more are injured but should recover quickly.''

''Then we have no business staying here any longer. We should try to find a place to make camp for tonight,'' Arthur said, making his voice as firm and commanding as possible. Determinedly he walked past the other man and away from the river.

''There's a village a short ride to the west,'' Sir Caradoc said, following him along a path circling around the camp.

Arthur gave a sharp nod, but he didn't look back. ''That should do.''

Merlin didn't move from his position by the stream. He sat, frozen to the spot, and listened to the sounds of men and horses, listened how they faded into the distance until the only sound that kept him company was that of the water running over the stones in front of him and the wind in the trees. It seemed that even the creatures of the forest, which would normally seek him out, had vacated the area. The silence was eerie.

This place had always been his favourite. The rock hid him perfectly from the bank and the camp and no one ever came down here to disturb him. Treva would just call out to him with her mind if he took off for too long, and Merlin would ignore her until her voice became impatient and annoyed. There was no one calling now though. Merlin tried not to think about why that was, but there was nothing that kept his mind from the truth. They were all gone. Every one of them.

_There are no survivors._

It began to settle in his chest and stomach like cold steel, this truth, however much he tried to deny it. He should go back and look for them. There had to be something he could do, some way he could help them, _save_ them, but his body was frozen. As long as he didn't see it with his own eyes, it might not be true after all. But the silence in his head rang louder than the screams had before. It was plain and left no room for doubts or hopes or any other kind of illusion.

Merlin had seen the knights when they stepped out of the underbrush, had watched them from his hideout with wary curiosity. He had not known what would happen. The knights looked noble, so very different to the marauding troops of King Cenred, who often were not better than common thieves and thugs. Their chainmail had glinted in the sunlight when they moved on, and Merlin had not called out in his mind, had not thought to warn the others at the camp. He didn't like to communicate that way, without speaking. It felt foreign and weird to him and, moreover, he had not wanted Ansgar or Treva to come and find him down by the river when he knew he was supposed to sit and learn his runes. He could have _never_ imagined what was about to happen.

All of a sudden, there had been shouts. The air had crackled with defensive magic and Merlin had listened, frozen with shock, at the voices in his mind, scraps of panic and horror that were even louder than the cries that reached his ears. All through that noise, he had heard Ansgar, clear as if he were right next to him, telling him to _'Stay away. Stay where you are.'_

The druid leader had summoned a tempest then, and for a moment the trees bent and whipped under his will – until it stopped. Merlin had not dared to think of the reason for that, not when his mind was filled with cut-off screams that became fewer and fewer. He had heard them die, all of them. And when it was over and all was silent, he was still sitting by the river, with his hands pressed over his ears.

And then the knight had stumbled down to the river, had knelt there, with shuddering sobs shaking his strong back and shoulders, crying when Merlin himself had no tears. He must have made a sound though, because suddenly the man turned around with a sword in his hands, and for a second or two all Merlin could think was that now he would die too and what a relief that might be. Even as the knight dropped the sword Merlin's fear only increased. He wasn't naïve. He knew there were worse things than the quick end of a sword blow.

But instead the blond knight had knelt down in front of him, had whispered broken words and desperate promises, and Merlin had realised how young he was. Not a hardened warrior, but a boy just a few years older than Merlin. It was like a mirage in a world of terror and death, a bloodied angel who'd come to save him. Somewhere in the recess of his frightened mind, Merlin knew that he was one of them, one of the attackers, but the blue eyes shone with honest grief and fear and heart-break and his mouth was begging forgiveness, and there simply was nothing else for Merlin to hold onto.

As night fell around him, first in shades of gold and orange and then turning to violets and blue, Merlin kept sitting pressed against the rock, staring out at the stream with blurry eyes and a numb, frozen heart – and he waited. Because what else was he supposed to do?

The sun was sinking when the group of knights reached the village – not much more than a dozen houses and a tavern where they found quarters for the night. They left the horses in the care of two young boys offering their service, and Arthur inquired after someone learnt in the healing arts who could see to their two injured comrades.

The rest of the men took to the offered food and mead quickly. Everyone dealt with the aftermath of a battle differently, but there were enough reasons to drink, whether it was in memory of the fallen, in celebration of a perceived victory, or to flush down the bitter taste of death and to forget about the dying screams that were still ringing, at least, in Arthur's own ears.

Arthur wished he could have drowned his guilt and grief in a cup as well, but he knew it would only make him feel more ashamed of himself in the morning. The mission had been his responsibility, what had happened had been his fault, and it was him who had to face up to the consequences. The memory of the druid boy he had left behind burnt more than anything. _Merlin_. Arthur couldn't stop thinking of him. He couldn't afford to get drunk when he had yet to find his way back to the raided camp, had to come up with some sort of plan to keep the boy safe for longer than just tonight.

The idea of returning to that place made Arthur more than uncomfortable. But the thought of Merlin – all alone in the woods, where the people he had known and loved lay slaughtered – was enough motivation for Arthur to swallow down his fear. He sat with the knights for a while and raised his cup to Sir Gareth and Sir Patrick, pretending to drink, and then he excused himself to retreat to the room that had been reserved for him alone. This, at least, was an advantage of being the prince and standing somewhat separate of the rest of the men. He knew they would not disturb him until it was time to break their fast in the morning.

When he climbed out the window and sneaked away towards the stables, Arthur felt for a moment like a much younger boy and not at all like a knight of Camelot. His mare, Llamrei, whickered softly in greeting and he whispered apologies in her ear as he bridled her for another ride instead of letting her have a well deserved rest.

''We've got to go back, Llamrei. There's someone waiting for us, someone we can't abandon.''

The mare rubbed her head at Arthur's shoulder as if she wanted to tell him that she understood and didn't mind, and Arthur quickly mounted and then cantered off into the night.

Finding the way back in the dark was not easy, but at least a troop as large as theirs had left tracks Arthur could follow when he grew uncertain about the direction. The darkness still slowed him down and so the way took him quite a bit longer, but when he neared the camp he could almost follow the smell of ashes and death. He determinedly swallowed down on the bile that threatened to rise in his throat again and told himself to get a grip. The guilt and regret was his to bear, but he simply had no right to falter from it. There was a small, frightened boy who had been robbed of a home and what must have been the closest thing to a family he had. Arthur had sworn to keep him safe and he would not break his word. He had failed in his mission; he would not fail this boy as well.

He heard the soft, muffled sobs before he saw anything and stumbled along the muddy shore of the brook to the large, familiar rock where he had left Merlin earlier that day. When he found him, Merlin was sitting with his knees pulled against his chest and shaking like a leaf. Whether from the cold or the grief and exhaustion Arthur couldn't say, but if he had to venture a guess he'd say it was probably a combination of it all.

Carefully, so not to spook him, Arthur sank down in front of Merlin, gingerly touching his arm. As soon as his hand made contact though, Merlin screamed and beat at him like a frightened little bird, scratching Arthur's forearms and fighting like he feared for his life.

''Merlin. Merlin! It's me! It's Arthur. I told you I'd come back for you, remember?''

Merlin didn't seem to hear him. He just kept screaming like a banshee and Arthur didn't know what to do, didn't know how to calm him down. Finally, he just wrapped his arms around him and held the slender body crushed against his broader frame, rocking him in an instinctive rhythm that was older than time.

''It's just me... it's me... I won't hurt you, I promise... won't let anyone hurt you... you're safe... you're safe, it's all right... don't be afraid... please... it's all right...''

Arthur kept mumbling silly words, not knowing what he was saying but unable to stop, his lips pressed against Merlin's ear. It felt like an eternity, but then Merlin's screams turned into sobs and finally to harsh, heavy breaths. He was clinging onto Arthur now, his hands clawing at Arthur's tunic and his face buried in the crook between Arthur's neck and shoulder. His whole body kept trembling wildly.

Arthur just kept holding him, and with time the breaths turned slower and softer until Merlin finally went limp in his arms. He must have fallen asleep, probably beyond exhaustion by now. Careful not to wake him, Arthur picked him up and wrapped his own cloak around the younger boy. He was surprised by how light Merlin was, all gangly limbs and not an ounce of fat. It was not difficult at all to carry him up the slope to where Arthur had tethered Llamrei to a fallen tree, though it took a bit of a struggle to get him up on the horse's back.

Arthur mounted himself and pulled Merlin against him, holding onto him tightly. The boy's back was pressed against Arthur's chest, head resting against his shoulder and his face turned into the crook of Arthur's neck. He could feel the soft, warm puffs of breath against his skin as he rode back through the forest in a much slower walk, and they gave him a strange sort of comfort. They told him that, however many lay dead, this one boy was still alive.

Arthur was immensely glad to leave the remains of the druid camp behind, but at the same time his guilt was gnawing at him. It didn't feel right to leave the bodies where they had fallen instead of giving them some sort of burial and final respect. In the end though, he knew that the living were more important than the dead. There was nothing he could do for the slaughtered druids, but he could save this one boy, this one life, and he would do anything to accomplish it.

And so, riding through the darkness of the forest with a sleeping druid boy in his arms, he made a vow – on his honour as a knight and the life he had been gifted by the death of his own mother – that he wouldn't let anyone hurt or harm this boy. He, Arthur Pendragon, would protect Merlin until his very last, dying breath.

The first thing Merlin became aware of was the rocking motion of a horse under him, the second was the warmth of another body at his back. It was still dark around him, although there was a pale blush creeping through the trees to his left. Arms encircled him and strong hands were holding the reins in front of his stomach; for a moment Merlin had no idea where he was. When he glanced down at himself, though, and saw the red fabric of a cloak with the golden insignia of a dragon, his breath caught in his throat. Camelot's colours.

Merlin went completely stiff in the stranger's embrace, his heart beating like it wanted to escape his chest. The knight reined in his horse when he realised that his prisoner had woken, and Merlin closed his eyes. He almost didn't dare to breathe, didn't dare to think of what might happen now.

''Merlin? Don't be scared. I promise, you're safe with me.''

His name, his _real_ name – the one his mother had given him, not the one the druids had insisted on using. Hearing it from the knight's lips came as a shock, but the voice was familiar, its tone gentle and soothing. Merlin still didn't allow himself to trust it.

''Who... who are you? Where are you taking me?'' he asked in a whisper.

''I'm Prince Arthur of Camelot. And I'm taking you back to the village where me and my men have taken quarters for the night.'

Merlin whipped his head around wide-eyed, the motion so violent that he almost lost his balance and would probably have fallen had the prince not grabbed him and pulled him back upright. Upon seeing the knight's – _the prince's_ – face, Merlin remembered.

''You cried,'' he said, trying to comprehend why someone like the prince would shed tears over the death of people he had not known and surely didn't care about. He was the son of King Uther, who his mother had said was ruthless and cruel and _hated_ magic and anyone associated with it.

''I-''

''I don't understand... Why didn't you kill me? Down by the river. You had a sword. It would have been easy.''

He didn't know what he had expected, maybe that the prince would shove him to the ground for his insolence, but surprisingly enough his grip on Merlin tightened instead.

''You're just a boy! Why would I kill you?''

''I wasn't the only boy in the camp,'' Merlin said, wrecked with bitter grief. ''I wasn't even the youngest!''

''I know,'' the prince said softly, his voice pained. ''And believe me, I wish- … But there's no use in that. I can't undo what happened. However much I want to.''

''Why did you kill them?'' Merlin asked hoarsely. ''Did you do it yourself? Did you kill Ansgar? Or Treva and Solan?''

There was a long pause before the prince answered. ''I- I don't know. We were send to investigate. Magic is forbidden in Camelot. I- I don't know what happened, I don't know who attacked first, but it got out of control. I tried to- I had to defend myself and- I told them not to harm any women and children, but the knights abide to the king's law and they-... It doesn't matter. Even if I didn't kill them myself, I'm still to blame for their deaths.''

Merlin had no idea what to make of that. ''What will you do with me now?''

The prince released a shuddering breath that Merlin felt as a warm tickle against his neck. ''I don't know. I just want to keep you safe.''

''Why?''

''Because it's the right thing to do,'' he replied quietly. ''And I- I know I can't make up for what happened to your people. But I have to do _something_. Something that's right.''

Merlin hesitated for a moment. He knew it was reckless and he should keep his mouth shut, but he was much too tired and much too afraid to care at this point. He needed an answer to this question, and if it was the wrong one he'd rather know now then find out along the way. ''I'm a druid, though. For all you know, I could have m-magic too.''

He heard the prince swallow. '' _Do_ you have magic?''

Merlin felt like he was standing high up on a cliff with nothing under him but the rolling sea, black and unknown and deep. But he had nothing left to lose, and so he took a deep breath and jumped.

''Yes.''

Many of the druids were supposed to have magic. So Arthur couldn't rightly say he was surprised about Merlin's admittance, but the blunt way with which it was stated was still a shock. The most shocking by far though, was that it didn't matter, not even a bit. Merlin had magic. He was, for all his gangly limbs and unfortunate ears, a sorcerer. Arthur didn't care. He knew the penalty for harbouring a sorcerer, he knew the danger Merlin was in – and he cared about that very much – but it did not change his mind. If anything, he was even more determined to protect Merlin, and if he had to commit treason to do that, so be it.

''Do you have any living relatives?'' he asked quietly. He might feel compelled to take Merlin with him, but he wouldn't put the boy in danger for no good reason. At the slight hitch in Merlin's breathing, Arthur grimaced. ''Neither you or anyone close to you has anything to fear from me, unless you threaten the people of Camelot. I just want to know whether you have a place to go. Anywhere you'd be safe.''

''No,'' Merlin whispered after a moment. ''I have no such place.''

That only left one option. It might be risky, but Arthur couldn't think of any other way to keep Merlin safe than by keeping him by his side. Obviously no one could ever know who he was and where he had come from though, least of all Arthur's own father.

''Then I'll take you with me,'' Arthur told Merlin determinedly. ''We can say I hired you as my new stable boy. Do you know anything about horses?''

''I uh- a little?''Merlin said uncertainly, seeming to be completely flummoxed by this. ''I like them and they like me. Most animals do.''

''I guess that will have to suffice.''

Arthur wrapped his arms around the younger boy a little tighter and spurred Llamrei on to a brisker pace. Dawn was approaching and they needed to be back at the village before the knights rose at cock crow, or there would be even more questions Arthur had no answers for.

It turned out to be easier than he had expected though. When they had just come back and were unsaddling Llamrei, the two village boys who had taken responsibility of the horses the night before came into the stable. At first, they had scowled a bit at losing the task to care for the prince's horse, but when Arthur had given each of them a coin, they'd been quickly appeased and had proceeded to do as Arthur had asked of them – namely acting as if Merlin was one of them.

It seemed that Arthur had also very much overestimated the interest and attention the knights of Camelot would pay to a simple peasant boy. When Arthur casually mentioned his intent to take Merlin with him as his new stable boy there had been a few frowns, but the knights had other things on their mind, and Merlin was quickly forgotten.

Merlin's reaction to the knights was quite another matter though. The boy was a wrack of nerves and anxiety. When one of the knights entered the stable looking for his saddle bags, Merlin nearly dropped Llamrei's bridle, and his body turned stock still. His breaths became laboured, and Arthur quickly stepped closer, shielding the younger boy from view.

''You don't have to worry about Llamrei really,'' he said, gently steadying Merlin's hands and giving him a significant look. ''She can be a bit of a tease, but she's a rather friendly soul. Most of Camelot's horses are.''

There was a bark of laughter coming from the other end of the stable. ''Not Hengroen, though,'' Sir Kay said with a chuckle. ''Better warn the boy!''

Arthur shook his head with a small grin. ''Yes, well, Hengroen can be a bit boisterous, but he's not mean-spirited. He has a good heart.''

Kay snorted. ''That horse is the devil incarnate, and you know it.'' He walked past them and gave Merlin a wink. ''You'd better watch out for that one. Mark my words!''

When he was gone, it seemed like all tension left Merlin in one go and he had to hold on to Llamrei as his knees buckled. Arthur quickly grabbed him and pulled him close.

''Hey, hey. It's all right. Don't be scared, it's all right.'' Arthur gently petted Merlin's hair, and the boy pressed his face into Arthur's chest. ''They don't know you're a druid,'' Arthur whispered. ''And they'll never find out. You've got to be brave now. Can you do that? I know it's hard, but you have to act like you're one of the village's boys.''

Merlin nodded and his arms came up to hug Arthur's waist. It would have been completely inappropriate if anyone had seen Arthur letting a peasant boy touch him like this, but he couldn't begrudge Merlin this bit of comfort, not when Arthur himself felt so much better for it.

Then they rode. Merlin was given Sir Patrick's horse for the journey, bringing up the rear with Sir Kay, the youngest knight apart from Arthur. Arthur would have preferred it to have Merlin ride next to him, both for his own peace of mind and to reassure Merlin, but that would have drawn far too much attention.

When they made camp for the night though, Arthur saw how pale Merlin's face and how tense his posture was, and he just couldn't bear that sight. As a servant Merlin wasn't supposed to sleep with the knights, never mind the prince, whose bedroll had been put closest to the fire. But, Arthur argued in his mind, Merlin was just a boy and all skin and bones on top of that. And if Arthur wanted someone to warm his back, he couldn't very well ask one of the more seasoned knights for the favour. So it was only logical for him to call Merlin over and have him sleep beside him.

Doing so got him a few sniggers, and a weird look from Sir Caradoc, but when Merlin gave him a small, grateful smile Arthur knew it had been the right decision. Later, when the camp had fallen silent, he felt Merlin curl up against him. He was shaking and Arthur's tunic turned wet where Merlin was pressing his face between the blades of Arthur's shoulders. Arthur let him cry for a moment before he carefully turned on his back and wrapped an arm around Merlin's slender frame, holding him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead. They didn't say anything, but Merlin's breathing evened out soon after as exhaustion pulled him into slumber.

It had been a long day and, since he had not slept at all the night before, Arthur was beyond tired as well but he could not find his rest. He lay awake for a long time, staring up into the dark night sky and the few stars blinking through the tree branches. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the battle, the blood and the toy clutched in that child's lifeless hand. The guilt and self-disgust sat heavy in his chest, and he subconsciously drew Merlin closer. He held on to the slender body, feeling the warmth of him, the subtle rise and fall of Merlin's chest and the soft puffs of breath against Arthur's neck. That proof of Merlin being still alive finally soothed Arthur into sleep.

~*~

When they arrived in Camelot the next day, Arthur knew that the first thing he was expected to do was report to his father. It was a duty that could not be shirked, and so he quickly caught Merlin by the shoulder after they had dismounted.

''Take Llamrei back to the stables and rub her down,'' he ordered, giving the younger boy a meaningful look. ''Ask someone if you're not sure. I have to go see the king, but I'll be back as soon as I can. Stay with Llamrei until then, all right?''

Merlin only nodded silently, his face a little frightened, and turned towards Arthur's mare to carefully take her by the bridle.

Arthur cast one last worried glance at the boy's retreating back, before he tore himself away and made his way to the throne room quickly but with quite some trepidation. He wasn't a coward, and he was determined to stand up for his mistakes and take responsibility for what had happened. When he entered through the large double doors and saw that the full court was assembled, he swallowed nervously but didn't falter. Instead he raised his chin and kept his eyes front, striding forward, towards the throne where his father sat straight and regal, looking at him with calm expectation.

Arthur stopped right in front of him and dropped to one knee. He directed his eyes to the floor, but not before he caught a surprised frown marring his father's features.

''Arthur. What news do you bring?''

Arthur made sure his voice was loud and clear when he said, ''I failed you, my King.''

A murmur went through the assembly, hushed whispers and sharp intakes of breath. From the corner of his eye, Arthur could see his father hushing them with an impatient gesture.

''Stand up, Arthur. Why would you say that you've failed me? Explain.''

Arthur rose to his feet and looked his father straight in the eyes. ''The reports were truthful, Your Majesty. There was a full settlement of druids. Men, women and children. We approached them from two sides, but before I even reached the camp, a fight broke out. I lost control of the situation.'' He swallowed hard. ''There were no survivors amongst the druids. We also lost two knights: Sir Gareth and Sir Patrick.''

''Were there sorcerers among them?'' his father inquired.

Arthur nodded. ''There must have been at least one or two, since I saw someone fight with magic. But-''

Uther raised his hand to halt any further explanation. ''Then you have not failed me at all, Arthur. Indeed, you have displayed just the qualities that are necessary if you want to lead men into battle.''

''But, Sire, there were wom-''

''These people harboured sorcerers,'' Uther said sharply. ''The penalty for that is death. I know it seems harsh, but we can not show any mercy in regard to magic. It corrupts people at their core and we have to weed it out wherever it raises its evil head.'' He took a deep, calming breath and, when he spoke again, there was a benevolent smile on his face. ''You did well, Arthur. I'm proud of you.''

For a second Arthur could only stare. When he found his speech again, he was glad that he managed to suppress any tremble in his voice. ''Thank you, Sire.''

When Arthur turned and walked out of the throne room, his features were set in stone. His head was swimming with horror and confusion, but he kept his composure. His father was proud of him. Dozens of people were dead, some of them innocent children, and it had made his father smile. There was a young boy waiting for Arthur at the stables right now, who had lost his home, who had cried himself to sleep in his embrace last night, and if his father knew about him he would have him killed. For a moment it felt as if there wasn't enough air for him to keep breathing.

All his life, Arthur had wished and waited for his father to tell him that he was proud of him, but he would have gladly waited another sixteen years rather than have him express such a notion at what Arthur considered his worst failure and his greatest shame.

As unsettled as he felt, Arthur didn't hesitate but determinedly turned his steps towards the stables as soon as the doors to the throne room fell shut behind him. Morris, his manservant, was probably waiting with a bath in his chambers, knowing the prince liked to wash off the dirt of travel and battle after such a journey. That would have to wait, however, since Arthur had promised Merlin to be back as quickly as possible, and he very much intended to keep that promise. But he had hardly made it down the corridor when he was suddenly pulled into an alcove by a slim but surprisingly strong hand.

Arthur glared at the the pale face staring up at him. ''Morgana! What-''

Over the years he had come to think of Morgana as something like an older sister. She certainly treated him with the appropriate mix of condescendence and affection. Now though, she looked almost hysterical.

''What did you do, Arthur?'' Morgana hissed. ''What in the gods name did you do!?''

Arthur stared into her distraught eyes, her black hair hanging into her face making her look even more unhinged, and felt his heart speed up again in his chest. She couldn't know, could she?

''What did you hear?''

Morgana's fingers were still clawing at his arms, but she looked away, uncertain now, almost fearful. ''I- There was an attack. On a camp of druids. You... '' She glanced back at him. ''You led it!'' she said with accusation and lingering disbelief.

''Morgana...''

''There were women and children... Arthur, how could you!?''

''I'm sorry,'' Arthur whispered helplessly. ''I'm sorry. I tried. I didn't- It wasn't enough.''

''I saw you,'' Morgana mumbled, more to herself, almost as if she had forgotten he was there. ''You were crying.''

Arthur's breath caught. How could she know that? Had anyone seen him? Did anyone know about Merlin?

''Morgana!'' Now it were his fingers digging into her flesh. ''How do you know this? Who told you that!?''

Morgana blinked, looking confused for a second, but then her eyes widened in fear. ''I- No one,'' she whispered despairingly. ''I dreamed it. I saw it in my dreams.''

Arthur knew that Morgana was having nightmares, woke up screaming sometimes, rambling about terrible things, but this was far too close to the truth for Arthur's comfort. He almost didn't dare to ask, but he had to. ''What else did you dream?''

Morgana looked off to the side, her eyes strangely unseeing. ''There was a boy,'' she mumbled. ''I couldn't see his face.''

Arthur nearly gasped in shock, and as much as he tried, he couldn't keep his voice from trembling when he said, ''I'm sure it was just a nightmare, but... Morgana, don't tell anyone about this. It's... just promise me. Please.''

Morgana looked up at him then, stared at him for a long moment as if she was searching for something in his eyes. She must have found it, because in the end she nodded silently and stepped back, her arms crossed in front of her and her head bowed.

''I'm sorry,'' Arthur said again, uncertain what he was even referring to, and lightly touched her forearm. Then he stepped out of their hiding place and continued on his way with an even more anxious heart.

When Arthur had gone to see the king, Merlin was left alone right in the heart of Camelot – a kingdom that had outlawed his very existence. The citadel, while beautiful, was huge and imposing, its walls larger than anything Merlin had ever seen or could have imagined. There was so much activity, so many people – guards and servants and knights – that Merlin felt lost in the sea of them. This was so different from Ealdor, from the camp, from anywhere he had ever been that Merlin couldn't help but wonder how he could ever fit in here. It seemed impossible.

He followed in the wake of the rest of the troop that made their way to the stables, ducking his head and pressing himself against the soft, warm coat of Arthur's horse while trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. He was scared that he would make a wrong step, that someone would grab him and look at him and just _know_ what he was. He almost expected someone to point at him and shout 'Sorcerer!' but no one seemed to pay him any attention.

Until they reached the stables, that was. Merlin came to a stop in the courtyard, holding on to Llamrei's bridle with no idea how to proceed. He didn't know which box belonged to Arthur's horse or where to put the tack, and he was quickly beginning to panic.

''You there!'' A deep voice suddenly came from behind Merlin. ''What are you doing with the prince's horse, boy?''

Merlin froze in terror. From the corner of his eye, he saw a knight coming towards him, the Pendragon Red of his cloak trailing in his wake like a flag. His sword was still sheathed at his side, but the large hand had settled on the hilt like a prediction. Merlin's heart beat like a small drum in his throat as he saw the knight striding closer. Now. Now he was going to die.

''Hey, are you deaf?''

Merlin shook his head in denial of everything, whatever it was the man was thinking, but he couldn't force any words out from his parched throat.

Then another of the knights, the younger one Merlin had been riding with, stepped up to Merlin's side and wrapped a broad hand over his bony shoulder. Merlin tried hard not to flinch, but he couldn't suppress a tremble that ran down his spine. He was surrounded now – by men that were two heads taller than him, armed and trained in combat, and who had killed his kind without a second thought.

''Leave him alone, Bors,'' the younger knight said chuckling, just when Merlin thought he was going to faint any second now. ''He's Arthur's new stable boy.''

Bors frowned and looked Merlin up and down. ''Well, why didn't he say so?''

''Maybe your ugly mug had him scared.''

They laughed then, good naturedly, and the older knight left, shaking his head. The younger one patted Merlin on the shoulder once more and pointed over to an open stable door.

''That's Llamrei's. You can ask one of the other stable boys to show you where to put her tack.''

Then he gave Merlin an encouraging smile and left as well.

Merlin remained, shell-shocked and with a racing heart, digging his fingers into Llamrei's coarse mane when his knees buckled under him. Trying to get his breathing under control, he leaned into her, but there was still not enough air to clear his head. He stumbled more than he walked over to the stable, leading the mare inside and quickly closing the door behind him. After taking off the bridle and saddle with shaking fingers, Merlin sank down in the furthest corner, putting his face on his drawn up knees. He felt like the world was closing in on him, certain that if he made one more step or spoke just one word to anyone, he was going to die.

When Arthur didn't see Merlin anywhere upon entering the stable yard, he nearly panicked. He looked into Llamrei's bay, but at first glance there seemed to be no one there either. Only when Arthur opened the gate and stepped inside did he saw a small figure cowering in the farthest corner.

''Merlin!''

Arthur quickly closed the gate, stepping around Llamrei who came forward to nose at him affectionately, expecting some sort of treat. Merlin sat with his knees pulled up, arms wrapped around himself and head bowed. He was rocking slightly, back and forth, and he didn't react to Arthur's voice at all.

''Merlin?'' Arthur sank down in front of him, looking at the younger boy with worry and apprehension. Merlin's breathing was accelerated, and he didn't seem to recognise Arthur, a situation which felt much too familiar for Arthur's liking. He couldn't deny that he was starting to fear he might have gotten in over his head.

''Merlin?'' he asked, carefully reaching out. ''Merlin, it's me.''

He grabbed Merlin's shoulder, but the younger boy only flinched, twisting away and curling into himself even more. Not knowing what to do, Arthur shuffled closer and hesitantly put an arm around Merlin's trembling shoulders. At first he grew stiff as a board, but after a few minutes of Arthur awkwardly holding him, petting his hair, Merlin gradually relaxed and even turned into the touch.

Arthur had no idea how much time had passed when Merlin finally whispered, ''A-Arthur?''

''Yes.'' Arthur let out a relieved sigh, pulling Merlin closer. ''What the hell happened, Merlin?''

Merlin turned around, pressing his face into Arthur's chest. ''I- there was... this knight. He... he asked me who- who I was, and what I was doing with the prince's horse and... I didn't know what to say.''

''Did he hurt you?'' Arthur asked sharply, feeling his heart beating fast with anger and worry. ''Who was it?''

Merlin shook his head. ''No... I don't know. I just... I got scared.''

Arthur swallowed and bit his lip. ''In the future, just say you are the prince's new stable boy, all right? And that they should take it up with me if they don't believe you.''

Merlin choked out a desperate, painful laugh – or maybe it was a sob. He sounded very young at that moment and Arthur sagged a little, holding the smaller boy close and wondering what he was going to do now. Merlin was barely more than a child, not a knight, and it was obvious that he had been deeply scarred by the events. _And that's your fault,_ a voice whispered in his head, _it's all your fault._

If there had been physical wounds, Arthur would have known what to do, but he felt completely out of his depth with this situation. He had brought Merlin to Camelot, had managed to disguise the boy's origin – at least so far – and had found a purpose for him that would allow Arthur to keep him close. But even at sixteen, Arthur had many princely duties and Merlin could not stay with him all the time. Arthur was worried that, if Merlin kept reacting so violently, it would draw too much attention and that people would start asking questions.

Just as he was starting to panic himself, a voice jolted him out of his musings. ''Sire? Arthur, are you in there?''

There were very few people in Camelot who would dare to address him this informally, but Gaius had been one of his tutors since Arthur barely came up to his hip, which was probably why he sometimes forgot about the appropriate title.

''Yes. I'm... I'm here, Gaius,'' Arthur called back. He tried to slip out from under Merlin's weight, but the younger boy clung to him even more desperately now.

Of course, Llamrei chose that moment to shift to the side, revealing Arthur and Merlin to the old physician, who was standing at the gate and peeking into the stable. When Gaius caught sight of them, he drew back, raising his eyebrows in open surprise. Arthur stared back at him, his arm still wrapped protectively around Merlin, drawing a complete blank as to how to explain this situation.

Gaius just studied them silently for a moment, then he said calmly, ''Sir Kay has apprised me that you were injured during the mission, Sire.'' He gave him a mildly admonishing look before he continued. ''Really, Arthur, a head wound is not to be trifled with.''

''It's not so bad...'' Arthur started.

''I think it would be better if you let me be the judge of that, Sire,'' Gaius said with fond exasperation.

He gave a quick look around, as if he was ascertaining that no one was watching, before he opened the gate and stepped inside.

''Who's your young friend?''

Arthur swallowed nervously. ''He's- He's my new stable boy.''

''Ah.'' Gaius, thankfully, refrained from asking why the prince was sitting on the ground, cuddling with his new stable boy, but he did give Merlin a thorough once-over. ''He looks rather pale. Maybe I should have a look at the both of you, just to be certain.'' He nodded to himself. ''I would appreciate it if you could come to my workrooms for that, though. My bones are too old to crouch on the floor and I didn't bring my bag.''

Gaius looked at him expectantly, and Arthur knew there was nothing to do but to follow. He squeezed Merlin's arm in an attempt to reassure him and got up, dusting off his garments and then reaching down to pull a reluctant Merlin to his feet.

''It's fine,'' Arthur whispered close to Merlin's ear. ''Gaius is our court physician and has been my tutor for many years. He's a good man.''

Merlin nodded, but he didn't meet Arthur's eyes, and neither did he look at or say a word to Gaius.

Gaius' workrooms were a cluttered mess of books and herbs and bottles, and Arthur had always thought that they smelled weird. But they had also been a somewhat safe haven when he'd been a child and had wanted to get away from the newest in a long row of governesses. Gaius had let Arthur hide under his work table, where he played with his wooden knights and horses, listening to Gaius mumble to himself under his breath while drawing up tinctures and ointments.

It was that table Gaius led them to now, before he firmly closed the door and locked it.

Arthur raised his eyebrows, but Gaius looked back at him unimpressed. ''I assumed you'd like to have some privacy for your examination, Sire.''

Arthur narrowed his eyes. It was obvious that Gaius was up to something, that he maybe knew more than he let on, but Gaius seldom came out and said what he was thinking, so all Arthur could do was wait.

''Of course. That's very thoughtful of you.''

Gaius gave him an amused little smile. ''Well then, let me have a look at your head, Sire.''

He began to touch and prod at the back of Arthur's head gently and asked him about any lingering dizziness, nausea or blurred vision. Arthur thought about the sick feeling he was experiencing whenever he thought about what had happened at the druid camp, but then shook his head.

''Any headaches?''

''A little.''

''Hm. Well, I guess we can be glad that a thick skull runs in the Pendragon family,'' Gaius said with a sardonically raised eyebrow. ''You should still take it slow for the next two days. And try not to get hit on the head again.''

Arthur chuckled. ''You know my father won't stand for me doing anything but going back to my duties. He certainly won't let me take it slow. I'll be fine.''

Gaius studied him for a moment, all amusement gone from his expression. ''Your father is the king, Arthur, but even still... He isn't always right.''

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise. ''Gaius!''

The old man just raised an eyebrow at him, as if he dared Arthur to disagree. When Arthur wasn't forthcoming – because what would he have said, really? – Gaius turned to Merlin who was standing, fidgeting slightly, at the other side of the table from where he had silently watched their exchange.

''All right, lad, let's have a look at you.''

Merlin looked at Arthur almost pleadingly then, and Arthur tried to give him a reassuring smile, though that didn't seem to help much. Gaius waved him closer with a slightly impatient hand gesture, and Merlin hesitantly stepped forward.

''Now, now, no need to be afraid. What's your name, lad?''

''M-Merlin.''

''Merlin, hm?'' Gaius raised one prominent eyebrow, signalling for Merlin to sit down on the table. ''I haven't seen you around the castle before,'' Gaius continued, looking Merlin into the face and at his hands. ''Are you from the lower town?''

''Uh-''

''No,'' Arthur interrupted quickly. ''I brought him with me from one of the northern villages.''

''Did you now?'' Gaius glanced at Arthur, before he turned back to Merlin and said, almost too casually, ''You must have an especially good hand with horses then.''

Merlin swallowed nervously. ''Y-yeah.''

Gaius nodded, as if this all made perfect sense to him. ''Lift your shirt.''

''What?''

''Your shirt. I need to see if your lungs and heart work properly.''

''But-''

''Do it, Merlin,'' Arthur said. ''It's all right.''

But when Merlin lifted the blue tunic over his head, Gaius' eyes grew wide in obvious shock and Arthur realised that it wasn't all right, not even in the slightest.

Gaius gave Merlin a suspicious look. ''Where did you get that tattoo, boy?''

Merlin didn't answer, he just sat and stared at Gaius, horrified and breathing hard.

''W-What is it, Gaius?'' Arthur asked, almost subconsciously stepping closer to Merlin and putting a hand on the boy's trembling shoulder.

Gaius took a deep breath and looked from Merlin's chest – where a symbol of three conjoining spirals, each ending in what looked like a dragon's head, was painted right over his heart – into Merlin's eyes and then further up to meet Arthur's.

''It's a triskellion, Sire. It's a symbol used in the old religion. Most commonly by the druids.''

Arthur paled, and Gaius must have interpreted this wrongly, because he said, very quietly, ''So you didn't know about him.''

Arthur sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head, before he confessed. ''No. I did.''

Gaius audibly sucked in air through his nose. ''Arthur-''

Arthur opened his eyes and met Gaius' gaze, steady but not without a hint of pleading. He kept his hand on Merlin's shoulder, who sat, curled in on himself, and stared down into his lap.

''I couldn't leave him there, Gaius. His people... they're all dead. And it's my fault. He's- he's just a boy. Please, Gaius. Please, don't tell anyone.''

Gaius sighed. ''Sire-... Arthur. You must know the risk of Merlin staying here. If he was to be found out-''

''He won't. I'll see to it that he won't. He doesn't have anywhere else to go.''

''This is high treason we're talking about.''

''He's a boy. He has done nothing wrong.''

Gaius looked at him for a long moment and Arthur stubbornly liften his chin, until the old physician sighed and nodded, reluctantly agreeing. ''I suppose it would be too much to hope that he doesn't have any magical abilities,'' he mumbled, but raised a hand when Arthur opened his mouth. ''No, don't answer that.'' He looked at Merlin contemplatively. ''But under these circumstances he won't be able to stay in the servants quarters.''

''He could stay in the adjoining room to my chambers.''

Gaius raised an eyebrow. ''He's not your manservant.''

''Morris doesn't use it; he has family and his own quarters.''

''And you don't think it would draw unduly attention to the boy? No, I think it would be best if he stayed here.''

This finally made Merlin look up. His eyes were wide and surprised, and Gaius smiled at him gently. It was a smile Arthur remembered well. Gaius had bestowed him with it many times, when Arthur had come to his workroom, hurt or angry but certain that his face gave nothing away. Gaius always had seen through him. He wasn't a man of many words, but he would pat Arthur on the shoulder, hand him a mug of honeyed tea and he'd smile at him with understanding and reassurance and, maybe, just a little bit of affection. There had not been many smiles like that in Arthur's life.

''I have an adjoining sleeping chamber,'' Gaius explained to Merlin now. ''But I mostly use it for storage and sleep here in the workroom anyway. It wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience, I imagine, and you'd have a place for yourself.''

Merlin didn't say anything, instead he looked to Arthur, as if asking him what he thought about this. It was quickly becoming a habit, it seemed.

''It sounds like a good idea,'' Arthur started hesitantly. ''Since Gaius is willing, which I'm grateful for.'' He nodded at the old physician, before he looked back at Merlin questioningly. ''But only if you're comfortable with it?''

If Merlin's expression was anything to go by, comfortable wasn't how he felt about any of this, but after a moment he sighed and nodded.

''The shape and detail to this is exceptional,'' Gaius said, touching his fingertips to the tattoo on Merlin's chest. ''While most druids carry such a sign, it's normally quite plain.''

''The ritual... it just turned out like this,'' Merlin explained uncertainly. ''The druids said it's because I have dragon blood.''

Gaius pulled his hand back and looked up, slightly shocked. ''Dragon blood... Merlin, who was your father?''

Merlin blinked. ''I- I don't know. I never knew him and my mother never talked about him.''

''And your mother?''

Merlin looked down, biting his lip.

Gaius voice was oddly soft when he asked, ''Was her name Hunith, by any chance?''

Merlin's gasp and the way he stared at Gaius wide-eyed was answer enough. Gaius seemed to think so too, because his smile turned open and just a little sad.

''You're Hunith's boy. Was she...'' Gaius hesitated and glanced at Arthur. ''Was she with you at the druid camp?''

Merlin shook his head.

''Then...''

''She sent me there,'' Merlin said in a small voice. ''To be safe. It had become too dangerous for me to stay in Ealdor when Cenred's men came looking for... for...''

''People who have magic.''

''Yes.''

Gaius nodded. ''She's well though?''

''I hope. You- you know her?''

Gaius smiled. ''Yes. Yes, I knew her very well once. She was my apprentice for some time, but I haven't seen her in many years. Long before you were born.'' He studied Merlin for a long moment. ''Maybe it would be best if you returned to Ealdor and your mother then.''

''No!'' Merlin vehemently shook his head. He looked at Arthur again. ''I can't! They- they know now. And my mum... she would never allow me to be taken and they would hurt her... I can't! Please!''

He was shaking again and Arthur quickly put an arm around him, strangely glad when Merlin leaned against him. ''It's all right, Merlin. We won't send you back against your will.''

He caught Gaius' eyes and gave him a challenging look until the old man inclined his head. The deep breath that left Arthur felt oddly like relief. He brushed his lips against Merlin's temple, ignoring Gaius' amused look, and mumbled, ''I promised you, didn't I? I promised you, I'd keep you safe.''

Merlin looked at him then, a soft smile creeping up into his face. It was small, but there was an honest warmth in it that managed to fill all the dark corners in Arthur's chest.

''Yes,'' Merlin said quietly. ''And I believe you.''

That night Merlin lay curled up on the narrow bed in what was his room now, listening to Gaius' snores drifting in from the workroom. He was so very tired – from the day, the journey and all the times he'd felt scared to death – but he couldn't make himself fall asleep. The fear still lingered inside of him, making his chest feel tight and his stomach hollow.

He stared out at the patch of dark night sky that was visible through the high window and listened to the foreign sounds of the citadel and the town beyond: the hard cadence of footsteps on cobblestones, the bubble of voices drifting up from what must be a tavern in the lower town. It was strange to go to sleep in his own room, in a castle made of ruthless power and stone. Only two days ago he'd lived in the forest with its earthy smell of wood and moss, sneaking off on a sunlit afternoon with nothing else in mind but to hide at the river and dream the hours away. He still tried to comprehend everything that had happened. In a blink of an eye, his whole life had been uprooted, once again, leaving behind death and destruction.

Merlin knew it was stupid to feel guilty, but he couldn't stop thinking that he should have done something. The druids had thought him to be so special and powerful, but apparently they had been mistaken. As it had turned out, there was nothing great about him. He'd been hiding like a coward, frozen to the spot, while the people who had taken him in were put to the sword. Even his magic had felt frozen, like an icy lump inside of him.

He forced himself to think of their faces now, to say their names in his head – Ansgar, Treva, Solan, Aphra, so many more – knowing that there was no one there to hear him any longer, that there would never again be an answer. Grief and disbelief mingled with the guilt inside of him. He might not have liked living with the druids, but they had been good people. In their own way, they had cared for him and taught him with generosity and kindness. It still felt hard to grasp that all of that was simply gone.

Right there and then, inside the thick walls of Camelot's citadel, Merlin felt very small and very alone. Gaius had offered to send a letter to his mum, letting her know Merlin had come to Camelot and that he was, well, safe. Though Merlin wasn't sure whether this knowledge would make her worry more or less. The tought of his mother and his home in Ealdor filled him with longing. He tried to conjure the memory of his mother's warm smile and Will's mulish face in front of his inner eye, and imagined being there, falling asleep in front of the fireplace to the sound of his mother's quiet needlework. He wondered if it would ever be like that again, if he would ever feel at peace again, secure in the knowledge that he was loved and protected.

Unbidden, the image of the blond prince of Camelot rose before Merlin's inner eye. Arthur was still a mystery to him. He still wasn't sure why the prince had saved him, why he was so determined to protect him, even though it was risky and he knew Merlin had magic. He was King Uther's son; by all rights and expectations he should have delivered Merlin to the sword or the pyre without so much as blinking an eye. Most of all though, Merlin was mystified by his own feelings.

It had been Arthur who led the knights that attacked the camp, and Merlin knew that he should feel anger and contempt towards him because of that. He had tried to – tried to blame Arthur for everything that had happened, tried to hate him even. Then he remembered Arthur kneeling by the river, how he had watched him cry and nearly shake apart. Right from that moment, Merlin had felt a sort of kinship that he couldn't quite explain, and when Arthur had pressed a finger to his lips, had lied instead of giving Merlin up, he understood that they were in this together, he and Arthur against the rest of the world.

Merlin sighed, burying his face deeper into the pillow. Those were stupid thoughts though. He was a nobody, a weird peasant boy with an ability that had people terrified more often than not. Arthur was a golden prince, who probably wouldn't want to be friends with someone like Merlin. With those dejected thoughts, exhaustion finally made Merlin's heavy eyelids drop, and he was just starting to drift off into slumber when-

_''Merlin...''_

He sat up with a start, heart suddenly beating in his throat as he looked around himself in the dark. He tried to convince himself that he must have been dreaming already, but then he heard the voice again.

_''Merliiin.''_

Merlin scooted up against the wall, sitting stock still and hardly daring to breathe. He didn't ask who was there; it was quite apparent that whoever was calling for him wasn't in the room, nor outside in Gaius' workroom. The voice almost seemed to come from the ground itself, rolling over burnished coals and hissing out of the fire. But at the same time, it resounded, like the stroke of a bell, somewhere deeply inside of him, pulling on him like it had a tether to his heart.

Trembling, Merlin lay back down, taking his lumpy pillow and putting it over his head. Maybe, if he ignored it, it would just go away.

_''Meerliiiin...''_

Merlin threw his pillow across the room and sat up again, clenching and unclenching his fists and breathing hard. ''Who are you?'' he whispered to the room. ''What do you want from me?''

_''Merliiin.''_

''Leave me alone!'' Merlin hissed, louder this time, taking his boots and pulling them on.

He slipped out of the room, just when he heard the voice call again, ringing inside of his chest. Steadfastly ignoring it, Merlin sneaked past the sleeping form of Gaius and out into the hallway. For a moment he paused, unsure where to go when he heard hurried steps coming up the stairway and quickly slipped into a bay to hide. He listened to the sharp knock on Gaius' door, followed by a louder one and then Gaius calling from inside.

''Yes, yes, I'm coming! Give... second will you... middle of the night...''

The door was pulled open and there was Gaius' voice, louder now, asking, ''Well, what is it that you had to wake me in the middle of the night for?''

''The prince requires a potion for his headache. He's not been able to sleep.''

Gaius inhaled audibly and made a humming sound. ''Yes. Of course. Wait here for a moment.''

It was barely a minute before the old physician was back, pushing a small bottle into the servant's hand. ''Tell him to take this. It should ease his discomfort and help him sleep. And if he's still in pain tomorrow, he'd better come to me.''

''I will give His Highness your message. Good night to you.''

''Mhm.''

The door closed, and Merlin heard the servant's steps retreating again. Before he even realised what he was doing or why, Merlin had slipped out of his hiding place and followed.

His chambers lay in darkness, the last candles finally blown out, but Arthur was still awake, sitting on the side of the bed and staring at the small bottle in his hand. He was only wearing his sleeping tunic, and the cool night air coming in through the open window made him shiver slightly. He had told Morris that he had a headache, but the truth was that he couldn't stop hearing the screams, couldn't stop seeing the hand of a child – a child that was dead – holding it's doll whenever he closed his eyes. The potion Gaius had sent him held a sleeping draught as well as something to sooth the pain, but somehow Arthur couldn't bring himself to take it. It seemed wrong to seek out such an easy way to escape his guilt. The ache and sleeplessness were a small penance, after all, far less than he deserved.

When the door to his chambers opened again, just mere minutes after Morris had left but without his manservant's customary knock, Arthur turned around with a suspicious frown.

''Who's there?'' he called into the darkness.

There was no answer, just hesitant steps on the stone floor coming closer, and Arthur was up in a second, the dagger he kept beside his bed gripped firmly in his hand. His eyes warily searched out the shadows. When he stepped around his huge four-poster bed though, he stopped dead upon the sight of a small figure standing in a shaft of moonlight falling through the window.

''Merlin!'' he breathed out in surprise and quickly put the dagger down.

When Merlin just stared at him with wide eyes, Arthur stepped forward, hesitantly reaching out towards the boy.

''Hey, are you all right? What are you doing here?''

Even in the dim light of the moon, Arthur could see Merlin's embarrassed grimace. ''I couldn't sleep,'' Merlin said softly. ''And I thought- I thought if you couldn't sleep either-''

''How did you know that?''

''Your- your servant. I followed him.''

''You _followed_ Morris? Wait... How did you even get in here? There's a guard outside-''

''I distracted him.''

Arthur raised his eyebrows. ''You distracted him.''

Merlin shrugged. ''With, you know.'' He wriggled his fingers with a frown. ''Magic.''

Arthur felt his eyes go wide as he sucked in a shocked breath. ''You did _what_!?'' he hissed, grabbing Merlin by the arm and pulling him around his bed so that they were shielded from the door, should anyone come in.

Merlin had gone completely stiff under his grasp and was looking up at him fearfully now. With a conscious effort Arthur loosened his grip. ''Merlin,'' he said, trying to sound calmer than he was, ''You can't do that. You can't use magic here! Do you know how dangerous that is? What if someone saw you?''

''I- I'm sorry. I just- please don't be angry with me.''

Arthur closed his eyes and took another deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. ''I'm not angry with you, Merlin,'' he said after letting it out. ''I'm worried for you. I don't want anything happen to you.''

He led Merlin to the bed and sat down next to him on the mattress, searching out the younger boy's eyes in the darkness. ''You know what the king's – my _father's –_ stance on magic is, right?''

Merlin nodded. ''It's forbidden.''

''It's forbidden under penalty of death.'' Arthur ran a hand through his hair in frustration. ''I know I said I'd protect you - and I will. But if you were found out to be a sorcerer... Merlin, I don't know if I'd be able to. You have to be careful. Promise me you will!''

Merlin nodded silently, and Arthur relaxed a little. ''So, why couldn't you sleep?''

Merlin ducked his head and fidgeted a little, after a moment he looked up though, biting his lip. ''I'm hearing a voice,'' he said, almost like a confession.

Arthur sighed. ''I see. It's to be expected, I guess. I'm- I'm thinking about it too, to be honest. I'm hearing the-...''

He broke off, feeling awkward and guilty, but Merlin shook his head.

''No. I mean I'm hearing someone or- or something. In my mind. It's calling me.''

''Calling you?'' Arthur asked bewildered.

''Yeah.''

Hesitantly, Arthur reached out and put a hand on the younger boy's shoulder. ''It's normal, Merlin. To be shaken up after what you've been through. I- If you want, I have a sleeping potion.''

Merlin looked at him uncertainly. ''Can I- Can I sleep here? With you? Like we did in the forest last night?''

Arthur blinked. Merlin had probably no idea how completely inappropriate his request was. For a peasant boy to sleep in the prince's bed... but then again Arthur had not exactly behaved appropriately himself these past days. He had lied to his men and his father. He had hidden a sorcerer and he kept touching Merlin and letting himself be touched. No one ever touched the prince, not even Morris. And Merlin was right to point out that they had slept like this when making camp last night. Whether there was a bed involved or not should not make much of a difference. If it helped Merlin sleep, how could he deny him?

''All right. But we can't let people see. You'll have to get up early and go back to Gaius.''

''Okay.''

Merlin pulled off his boots and then took the sleeping potion Arthur handed him. A moment later, he lay curled up next to Arthur with his black mop of hair pressed into one of the thick pillows.

''Your bed is really nice,'' Merlin mumbled sleepily and wriggled a little until his back pressed against the length of Arthur's side. His breaths evened out soon after.

Arthur lay awake for a long time that night. There were too many thoughts running through his head for him to find rest. Apart from his deep shame regarding his failure to command the knights, which had led to so much death and innocent blood shed, there was an even greater worry about Merlin. The boy seemed to have little in the way of self-preservation instincts and Arthur had the feeling that how ever much he tried to prevent it, Merlin would turn his life upside down in more ways than Arthur could imagine.

Dawn wasn't far when Arthur finally slipped into a restless slumber. And if he turned towards Merlin in his sleep, holding onto him with an arm around the smaller boy's waist and burying his face into the dark locks at the back of his head, then no one was there to see it.

~*~

A sharp knock on the door made Arthur grunt and blink against the sunlight, spilling into the room from where he had not closed the window last night. He frowned and stretched, hesitating when he realised there was a warm weight against his side. It took him a moment until his still sleepy mind caught on, but then the events of the night came back to him with a start – just as the heavy door to his chambers was pushed open.

''Good morning, Sire,'' Morris said formally, stepping inside with a tray holding Arthur's breakfast. ''I hope you have slept well.''

For a second or two Arthur just stared at the turned back of his manservant before he glanced down to where Merlin was still sleeping peacefully, his tousled black hair and scrawny neck peeking out from the sheets. Quickly, Arthur pulled the covers up over the other boy before Morris turned around, alerted by the movement.

He looked at Arthur questioningly for another moment, probably confused by his wide-eyed expression.

''Are you feeling better, Your Highness?''

''Uhm...'' Arthur still stared, holding himself stiffly because he had no idea where to put his arm or whether it would be more or less suspicious to lean over the rather distinct lump on the bed next to him. Finally he decided to just roll with it and behave like there was nothing at all to see. He was the prince. Whatever or whoever he had in his bed was no one else's business, right?

''Yes. Better. Very much. Thank you, Morris, that will be all.''

Morris raised his eyebrows. ''Would you like me to come back later to help you dress? After you...'' He lowered his chin and looked at Arthur meaningfully. ''Have finished your breakfast?''

Mortified, Arthur felt heat creeping up in his face. It was rather obvious what his manservant was thinking. ''Yes! Thank you. After breakfast!''

''Sire.''

Morris inclined his head and turned on his heel. A moment later the door fell shut behind him, and Arthur sagged, burying his burning face in his hands.

''Arthur?'' Merlin mumbled, wriggling a little and kicking at the sheets. He emerged, yawning and rubbing his eyes, his dark hair standing in all directions.

''Merlin!'' Arthur hissed, still feeling flustered. ''I said you'd have to get up early and go back to Gaius!''

Merlin wrinkled his nose. ''Sorry? I only just woke up.''

Arthur glared at him. ''Now my manservant thinks I was having some _girl_ in my bed!''

''Why? Do you do that often?'' Merlin asked, making a face that left no doubt what he thought of that idea.

''N-no!'' Arthur spluttered, feeling embarrassed and maybe just a little offended. ''Of... of course not! I wouldn't-... I don't!''

Merlin glanced at him through his eyelashes, an impish grin on his face. ''All right... I was just asking.''

''My father would have my hide. I'm the prince, Merlin. I can't just-'' Arthur coughed, and made some vague one handed gestures, not really all that clear what he was trying to convey with them. He rolled out of bed quickly, wincing a little as his bare feet met the cold stone floor.

''So you've never... enjoyed the royal privileges or something?'' Merlin looked at him curiously, leaning back on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of him and wriggling his naked toes. With that ruffled hair and big ears, he looked like a little pixie.

Arthur shot him an outraged look. ''I'm a knight of Camelot! I've got more honour than that. Doing something like that... taking advantage... that's despicable!''

''Sorry.'' Merlin's smile turned rueful. ''Didn't mean to insult you.''

Arthur rolled his eyes at him and, choosing not to delve further into the topic, went over to the table where Morris had set down the tray of food.

''Do you want some breakfast?'' he asked, seeing that there was more than enough for the both of them. He picked up a sausage and bit into it. ''Though you'd better hurry up, it would be rather hard to explain what you're doing in the prince's quarters at this time of the morning.''

Apparently, when there was food involved, Merlin didn't need to be told twice. He scurried out of bed and came over, eyes widening when he saw what the cook had assembled for Arthur.

''Is this all for you?'' he asked with an astonished look at.

Arthur shrugged and grinned. ''I think cook likes to indulge me.''

Merlin grinned and reached out for another of the sausages, but then hesitated, his hand hovering over it for a moment while he glanced at Arthur questioningly.

Arthur nodded. ''Go on! Take what you like. You sure need it, you're as thin as a stick.''

The sausage vanished into Merlin's mouth whole, although that didn't keep him from speaking. ''Mum says I'm a growing boy,'' he mumbled around the food.

Arthur fell silent then, watching Merlin eat and wondering, always wondering about something he had never experienced: the care of a mother. It was apparent how much Merlin loved his, a feeling that seemed to be mutual.

''Your mum,'' he asked hesitantly after a while, ''What's she like?''

Merlin raised his eyebrows at him, mouth still full and chewing.

''I just...'' Arthur shifted awkwardly. ''I never met mine, so... I just wonder what it's like.''

Merlin gulped down the food, looking at Arthur uncertainly before he asked, ''You never knew your mum?''

Arthur frowned. He wasn't even sure why he had brought it up; it was something he had learned not to talk about. His father never did – he never so much as spoke her name – and everyone else knew the story just as much as they knew not to tell it. Merlin obviously didn't though.

''She died giving birth to me,'' Arthur said quietly. ''It's... I think it's the reason my father hates magic and those who practice it so much. He blames them for her death.''

''I don't understand.''

Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair. ''Me neither, to be honest. He doesn't talk about it; I don't really know what happened. Only that there was magic involved and she died. I don't know why her death would be the fault of sorcerers. I always thought it was mine.''

''What? Why would you think that?''

Arthur looked up, surprised to find an almost stricken look on the younger boy's face.

''It wasn't your fault!'' Merlin insisted fervently, but then hesitated, obviously uncertain whether he had overstepped. ''I mean... It can't have been. You were a baby, you couldn't have done anything about it. How can something be your fault, when there was nothing you could have done to change it?''

As weird as it was, that thought had never really occurred to Arthur. He had always rationalised that, without him, his mother would have lived and his father would have been a lot happier. So her death and his father's grief was Arthur's fault through something as simple as existing. The fact that _he_ had never been able to make his father happy was just another thing that proved Arthur's deficiency. Merlin was right, though. Arthur could not have done anything to prevent his mother's death. It had never been his choice.

''I never knew my father,'' Merlin said quietly after a moment, interrupting Arthur's thoughts. ''I don't know whether he's dead or who he was and I don't know why he left. But sometimes I wonder whether it was because of me. Whether he didn't want a child that is a freak.''

''A freak?'' Arthur asked with a frown. ''Why would he think that?''

Merlin shrugged and bit his lip. ''You know, with the magic. My mum's great, though. She raised me on her own. She did everything on her own. She's always been there for me, and I know it can't have been easy for her.''

''Wait... the magic? I thought the druids taught you that?''

Merlin shook his head. ''They taught me how to control it better, but I've always had magic. Could move objects around with my mind before I could walk, mum says.''

Arthur looked at him, taken aback. ''Is... is that normal? For... you know, uh... sorcerers?''

''No. No, it's not. I'm just... weird.'' He looked up at Arthur with a miserable face. ''A freak, right?''

Arthur reached out before he knew what he was doing, and then pulled Merlin into a somewhat awkward, one-armed hug, ruffling his hair. ''I don't think you're a freak,'' he said with a small chuckle. ''A bit weird maybe, but I like it.''

Merlin huffed but leaned into him for another moment and, when he finally pulled back, there was a smile lingering in the corners of his eyes.

''Well, _you_ are a prat,'' he said, ducking his head. ''But I guess I kind of like that, too.''

Arthur laughed. ''You can't call me that, Merlin. I'm the _prince_.''

Merlin raised his eyebrows challengingly. ''So then you're a _royal_ prat?'' he asked and, with an insolent little grin, reached out to steal another sausage.

They finished Arthur's breakfast over good-natured jibes and bickering, which Arthur let Merlin get away with because it put a spark back into the younger boy's eyes and a rosy tinge to his cheeks. It might have also made Arthur feel slightly warm inside, because Merlin's insults were spoken with an affection that was missing from the deference and respect his title instilled in most.

Merlin finally sneaked out, but only a few minutes later the door to Arthur's chambers was pushed open again. Arthur sighed in exasperation. Apparently it was easier to herd cats than keep one druid boy in rein.

''Merlin, I told you, my manservant could be back any second! And you have chores-''

''Merlin?'' A crisp voice came from just inside the door. ''Is that his name? That boy I just saw...''

''Morgana!'' Arthur jumped up from his seat in surprise. ''What are you doing here? For gods sake, I'm not even fully dressed!''

''Pffft.'' Morgana walked over to the table where Arthur had still been fiddling with his breakfast. ''I just want to know what you're playing at, Arthur!''

''I'm not _playing_ at anything.''

''Then why did I just watch a boy I've never seen before sneak out of your chambers?''

Arthur swallowed. There really was no good explanation for this.

''Oh my gods, he's _that_ boy, isn't he?''

''What? Morgana, how would you-''

''He's the druid boy?'' Morgana cried.

''Will you keep it down?'' Arthur snapped, looking at the door nervously, almost expecting a guard to come storming in at any moment.

''Are you insane, Arthur?'' Morgana hissed, thankfully in a more subdued volume. ''Why would you bring him here? Do you know how dangerous it is in Camelot for someone like him? What if anyone finds out?''

''I- I just want to... Well, what was I supposed to do? It's not like there was anyone left to look after him!''

For a very long moment Morgana just stared at him.

''And so you took him with you?''

Arthur nodded, feeling defeated. ''I promised I'd protect him. Though how I'm supposed to do that when I can't even keep it secret from you...''

At that, Morgana actually smiled, even though her eyes remained troubled. ''It's hard to keep secrets from me, Arthur Pendragon. But... it's just as hard to pull them out of me. So I promise I will keep yours.'' She turned back to the door but hesitated before pulling it open. ''Just remember this, if one day I ask you to do the same.''

With this more than cryptic declaration, Morgana left him to his shocked confusion and his once more increasing worries. The tension that had lifted while being with Merlin returned full forth and wrapped itself like an iron vice around his heart. Merlin had been in Camelot for only a day, and already two people had found out about him. Granted it could have been worse, Arthur knew that Gaius and Morgana could be trusted, but he still worried whether instead of keeping Merlin safe, he had dragged him into even greater danger.

Since he was starting to feel far too agitated to wait for Morris to come back, Arthur dressed himself and went down to the training grounds. He could always have one of the squires help him with his armour, but he had to get out of his quarters, had to move and hit things until his mind stopped circling around the ever same images. He kept seeing it in front of his eyes: people dying, surrounded by flames or under the blow of a sword, but now they kept turning into a familiar, slender figure with a scrawny neck and too big ears, the expressive blue eyes clouding over.

Arthur thrust and feigned, turned and ducked and arched until he had to blink the sweat from his eyes. Until his breaths were coming hard and the muscles in his arms and thighs were burning.

''Are you all right, Sire?'' Sir Leon asked, panting and frowning up at him from where he lay on his back in the grass, Arthur's sword directed at his chest.

Arthur pulled off his helmet and rubbed the back of his sword hand over his forehead, where his blond hair was sticking to it.

''Yes,'' he said, shaking his head against the dizziness. ''I'm fine.''

He rammed his blade into the soft ground next to the other knight, and held out his hand to help him up. Leon grabbed it and held on, even when he was back on his feet.

''You don't look fine,'' he said with a measuring look, face lined with a hint of worry. He stepped closer, dropping his voice to a low whisper when he said, ''There's no shame in being affected by what happened, Arthur. I know it was a mess, and we lost two good men.''

Arthur felt his stomach twist as another layer of guilt was put upon his shoulders. He had been too preoccupied with his worries for Merlin and his stabbing guilt for the whole situation to give much thought to the two fallen knights. Sir Patrick had been a new addition to the ranks, but Sir Gareth had been knighted when Arthur was still too small to carry a sword. He'd been a quiet man, patient with the younger knights and squires – a good man indeed.

''You mustn't blame yourself, Arthur,'' Leon went on. ''When there is magic in the mix, things have the tendency to spin out of control. I know you did your best, and from what I hear the mission was successful.''

Arthur grimaced. He really wished people would stop complimenting him for what he couldn't help but think of as slaughter.

''It doesn't feel like that to me,'' he mumbled, because Leon was someone he had always trusted beyond the shared bond of knighthood.

Leon hesitated. ''I can't say I completely... approve of the way your father conducted this lesson, but I'm certain it was still one well-learned. Leading men is not an easy task. You'll be king one day, Arthur, and I believe what you experienced on this mission will make you a better one.''

Arthur couldn't decide whether that thought was awful or comforting. Maybe it was a bit of both. Leon clapped him on the shoulder and was just about to turn away when another of the knights came up to them.

''I didn't know you were interested in starting a kennel, Arthur,'' Sir Caradoc said mockingly.

The use of his given name instead of his title rankled Arthur but calling the older knight out on in would have made him look like a spoilt brat. Of course, this was something Sir Caradoc was very aware of.

''What are you talking about, Caradoc?'' Leon asked with an impatient frown that was answered with a smirk from the other knight.

''I just noticed that the prince has acquired a puppy.''

Sir Caradoc pointed to the far side of the training grounds and, sure enough, when Arthur turned around, he saw Merlin lingering next to the weapon stand.

''Isn't that Arthur's new stable boy?'' Leon asked blankly.

''That's what I thought,'' Sir Caradoc said, leering in Merlin's direction. ''I just didn't realise that loitering around and staring at the prince was part of his tasks.''

Leon rolled his eyes, obviously less than impressed by Sir Caradoc's insinuation. ''He's a kid, can't see what the harm is of him watching. They all do from time to time.''

It was true; the knight's training often acquired a small audience when people stopped to watch for a moment between duties.

''As long as he's doing what he's paid to do,'' Sir Caradoc remarked with a sneer.

''Well, he's also a bit of an idiot,'' Arthur said darkly. ''If you'll excuse me, I'll go talk to him.''

Arthur didn't like the snort of laughter that followed him, but he pushed his anger away as best as he could. When he came up to Merlin, the boy's eyes widened and the grin he shot Arthur was almost manic and definitely not appropriately obeisant.

''Hell, Arthur!'' he said excitedly. ''I didn't know you could fight like that! That looked really amazing!''

The obvious admiration made Arthur falter for a moment. ''I'm a knight of Camelot, Merlin. What, did you think I just got the knighthood as part of my _royal privileges_?''

When Merlin just looked at him all impishly Arthur flicked his ear, unable to decide whether he was amused or outraged. ''You did! You totally thought I'm a pampered prince who, what... gets everything he wants handed on a silver tray?''

Actually, he realised, that idea hurt. And Merlin must have realised it, too, must have seen it on his face – and honestly, it was a bit disconcerting that Merlin would be able to read him like that already, after only a few days. All his life, Arthur had strived to mask his feelings like it was expected of the future king.

Merlin reached out then, hesitantly putting a hand on the vambrace covering Arthur's left forearm. ''I'm sorry,'' Merlin said, looking earnest and apologetic. ''I don't have much experience with princes. You're the first one I've met.''

''Yeah, well, my father certainly wouldn't give me something that I didn't earn. If anything, he expects more from me than he would of anyone else.''

Arthur looked at Merlin uncertainly. He felt vulnerable suddenly, something he had experienced around Merlin more than once before, but that he really couldn't afford in front of the other knights, definitely not in front of the likes of Sir Caradoc.

''Don't you have chores to accomplish?'' he asked somewhat chiding, which prompted a mulish look from Merlin.

''I already mucked out the stables, fed the horses and cleaned all of your tack!''

Arthur looked at him surprised. ''How the hell did you-?'' Then the penny dropped. ''Oh my gods, don't tell me you did use... _you know what_!?''

Merlin scowled and looked down, but the tips of his ears had turned red.

''You did!''

Arthur took a glance over his shoulder to where Sir Caradoc and Sir Leon were still standing and watching, one with a frown, the other with an amused smile. Deciding that this was not a conversation he could have here, he grabbed Merlin by the upper arm and dragged him off into the direction of the stables.

''Ow, Arthur! Damn it, I'm coming, you don't have to-''

''Shut up, Merlin!''

When they reached the stables, Arthur directed Merlin into Llamrei's box, hoping they would have at least a smidgen of privacy there. As soon as the gate fell closed behind them, he rounded on Merlin, glaring at him.

''Are you out of your mind? Do you know what it is your risking? And not just for yourself, you know? If you're found out, don't you think Gaius would be questioned, too?''

Merlin, who had been opening his mouth, probably about to protest Arthur's scolding, suddenly turned wide-eyed and very silent. He looked guilty now. ''But...'' he started quietly, ''I only used it when no one was around!''

''That doesn't matter!''Arthur cried. ''The risk is still too great! Someone might come up to you without you noticing. And even if they don't catch you in the act, don't you think it will look suspicious if you manage to accomplish the work of a day in barely half of it?''

Merlin grimaced, but nodded. ''I guess...''

''Merlin, no-'' Arthur cut himself off and lowered his voice to a whisper. ''No magic, you hear me?''

''Okay.''

''Good.'' Arthur sighed and clapped him on the shoulder, turning away to go back to the training grounds. Or maybe he should give it a rest for today.

''Arthur!'' Merlin called after him before he could step out of the stable.

''What?''

Merlin looked at him uncertainly. ''What am I to do now?''

Arthur frowned. ''You could take Llamrei out for some exercise? I'll ride Hengroen on patrol this afternoon.''

Merlin gaped. ''T-take her out? You mean... for a ride?''

Arthur raised his eyebrows. ''That's how it's normally done, yes.''

''You'd let me... you'd trust me to-?''

''You do know how to ride, Merlin, don't you?''

''Yes, I do!'' Merlin said, indignant in the face of Arthur's doubts.

''Well then, I don't see the problem.''

Merlin pursed his lips, but it was obvious that he was trying to hide a grin. ''Okay... then I'll do that.''

Arthur nodded at him once and opened the gate. Before he stepped outside, he hesitated for another moment, turning his head but not looking at Merlin.

''I do, you know. Trust you.''

At first Merlin had been hesitant, expecting someone to stop him at any second, shouting that he was stealing the prince's horse, but the guards let him pass without so much as a raised eyebrow. He still breathed a sigh of relief when he was beyond the stretch of houses and huts, and rode out through the trees leaving the citadel looming behind him.

The tension he had been carrying ever since he stepped inside the tall, stony walls lifted a little, and Merlin directed Arthur's mare towards an open stretch of fields. There he slackened his hold on the reins, letting her race up a small slope and further still until he couldn't see the towers of the citadel any longer, enjoying the sun and the wind in his face as he rode. It was nice to breathe in the sultry air of a late summer day, of fields in bloom and freshly turned earth. When Llamrei had finally run enough and was content to just graze for a bit, Merlin leaned forward onto her neck and closed his eyes, letting the softness and warmth of her coat comfort him.

He thought of Arthur, who was the Prince of Camelot, and how weird that was. What would Will think, if he knew that Merlin was serving a noble born, the heir to the throne no less? What would his mother think, if she knew that he had told Arthur about his magic, when she had always tried to impress on him how important it was to keep it secret?

He thought of Arthur's worried face, his pained eyes, and the reassuring weight of his touch. He thought of Arthur saying he trusted him, even though Merlin was a sorcerer, and he realised, much to his own surprise, that he was coming to trust Arthur as well. There had not been much of an alternative but to follow the prince to Camelot, and the decision to admit to his magic had been made in the spur of a moment, but Merlin found that he didn't regret either choice.

He couldn't really imagine what the future held for him, but at least he had one, and if there were rides in the sunshine to be had and blond princes that were prattish and kind and shared their breakfast, it was a start. It was something Merlin could hold onto.

So, when he returned to Gaius' rooms in the evening and the old physician greeted him with a warm smile, Merlin smiled back. He sat down at the table with him and shared a meal, told him about his day and let himself be comforted by the old man's calm words of reassurance. And when he went to his room and stretched out on his bed, preparing to go to sleep, Merlin felt for the first time since the attack on the camp that, maybe, things were going to be all right. Not right now, and probably not tomorrow, but someday.

_''Merlin...''_

Merlin's eyes snapped open. _Oh, come on, not again!_

''Will you just leave me alone?'' Merlin hissed into the darkness. ''I don't know who you are and I don't want to talk to you!''

_''Meeerliin...''_

Frustrated, Merlin flopped back on the bed and pressed his hands over his ears, but once again the voice seemed to come almost from inside of him, and Merlin realised there was no way to escape it. The owner of the voice did not seem ready to give up any time soon, and so he swung his legs out of bed and made his way out of the door, filled with determination. There was just one thing to be done about this.

Arthur woke up with a start, instincts immediately on alert and telling him that there was someone in the room. Sitting up in bed, he reached for his dagger, eyes searching for a hint of the intruder in the darkness.

''Who's there?''

A shadow popped up at the foot of the bed. ''It's me.''

''Merlin!'' Arthur slumped a little, but still gave the boy an exasperated glare. ''You can't just-''

''Please, Arthur.'' And now he actually sounded like the child that he was. ''The voice is back.''

''The voice?''

''Yes!''

''Merlin...'' Arthur sighed. ''I'm sure it was just a bad dream.''

''No! I wasn't even asleep, yet! There's someone calling me. I- I think it comes from down there.'' Merlin pointed to the ground. ''I'm not making it up, I swear!''

Arthur raised his eyebrows at him, hoping it conveyed his disbelief. ''And you are here exactly why? What do you want _me_ to do about it?''

For a moment Merlin faltered. ''I- I think we should go looking for it.''

''...we?''

''I don't want to go alone,'' Merlin admitted almost reluctantly. ''It's creepy! And... you know the castle better than me.''

Arthur rubbed a hand over his face, trying to get rid of the vestiges of sleep. He had no idea how to deal with this. Maybe he should talk to Gaius about it, ask him if there was a way to cure Merlin from these hallucinations. Or maybe he should just humour Merlin. He remembered how he'd been convinced there was some sort of monster living in his wardrobe when he'd been younger – a lot younger, mind – and it had only vanished when Arthur had plucked up his courage and went to investigate the issue once and for all. Maybe this voice was a manifestation of Merlin's fears, maybe searching for it was what he needed to come to terms with what had happened. What ever it was, if it helped Merlin, it was Arthur's duty to assist him.

''All right.''

''All right?'' Merlin sounded almost surprised.

''We will go and look for your mysterious voice, and if we can't find it, you will let me sleep and ask Gaius for a potion.''

Merlin pursed his lips. ''Fine. That seems fair.''

Arthur shook his head. Merlin really had still a lot to learn about what it meant to be a servant and what it meant to be a prince. Only Arthur wasn't quite sure whether he even wanted him to.

What followed, though, was probably the most ridiculous thing Arthur had ever done. At least it had been a long time since he had crept through the corridors of the castle, hiding from guards and servants in alcoves and behind tapestries. He was almost a little proud that he had not forgotten any of the secret passages he discovered as a boy and, from the look on his face, Merlin was quite impressed with him.

''So where now?'' Arthur asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

Merlin closed his eyes and listened, and then pointed down again. Arthur rolled his eyes.

''Now there's a surprise,'' he mumbled. ''You realise we already are in the dungeons, yeah?'' he whispered exasperatedly. ''Soon enough there won't be any further down!''

Merlin scowled at him. ''Then, I guess, it means we'll find it soon enough!''

Arthur refrained from expressing his disbelief over the likelihood of such a thing, and simply went ahead and down some surprisingly broad stairs, torch held in front of him.

They were now in a part of the castle Arthur himself had never been to before, cellars and dungeons that were long out of use, full of rubble and cobwebs and mould. The air had taken on a strange smell of brimstone and a draft made the flame of the torch stutter as they reached the end of the steps. There was a rough hewn corridor leading off to one side and they followed it until it opened into a large cave. Arthur nearly dropped his torch upon the sight because surely this could not be real. The cave stretched not only far down beyond their small outcrop, but also high above them like a huge jagged dome.

''What in the gods name...''

Suddenly there was a loud flapping sound, and Arthur had to raise his arm against a gust of wind. When he dared to look again, a _thing_ descended like a huge, scaly, bird with large golden eyes and teeth and breath as hot as a desert wind. That might have been something Arthur could still have comprehended somehow, but then the thing – the dragon, his mind helpfully provided – opened his maw and _spoke_.

''This is certainly an interesting turn of destiny,'' it said, sounding surprised and almost amused – if dragons could be amused, and, really, what did Arthur know? ''I didn't expect to meet the young warlock for quite a few years.'' And, while it had looked at Merlin before, it now turned its glowing eyes on Arthur. ''Nor did I foresee your presence here, Arthur Pendragon.''

Arthur let out a breath and swallowed heavily, shifting his body a little to the side, trying to push Merlin behind him. The dragon chuckled. It sounded like a small avalanche.

''You have nothing to fear from me. Indeed, I expect great things from the both of you.''

Arthur frowned at the scaly beast, still not quite sure he wasn't dreaming all of this, but deciding to humour either the dragon or his own imagination. ''What do you mean you _expect_ them? Who or what the hell are you?''

''I am the last of my kind. The last of the dragons,'' the voice boomed and then turned into a hiss. ''I was enslaved and imprisoned here by none other than your father, Arthur. He tricked me and I paid for it dearly. But with your coming, I too might find justice in the end.''

''My coming?''

''You are the Once and Future King, destined to unite the land of Albion and bring magic back to it's rightful place. But you can not do it alone.''

''That's... treason!'' Arthur spluttered.

The dragon had the gall to throw his head back and laugh, shaking loose rock from the walls of the cave. When he calmed down again he studied Arthur with a glint in his eyes. ''No, young prince, it is _destiny_.''

''What- what about me?'' Merlin asked, sounding almost eager when he stepped out from behind Arthur. And what was wrong with him, Arthur thought, that he hardly seemed fazed by the sight of a- a _dragon_ at all?

The beast smiled at the young boy, something that looked rather disconcerting on a creature like him, but there was something almost fond in his voice when he addressed Merlin.

''How small you are for someone holding such great power,'' he said wonderingly.

Merlin blushed a little, but his face was full of open curiosity. ''What did you mean by Arthur 'can't do it alone'?''

''You are two sides of the same coin. The one half can not be whole without the other.''

''What does that even mean?'' Arthur asked again, trying to make heads or tails out of the riddled words.

The dragon seemed to raise an eyebrow at him. ''You seek to protect him, young Pendragon. But it is he who will save you in ways you cannot yet imagine.''

Arthur glanced at Merlin, only to find him standing with his arms crossed over his skinny chest and grinning back at Arthur with a smug expression. Arthur rolled his eyes and turned back to the dragon.

''Merlin?'' he asked disbelievingly. ''As reckless as he behaves, I worry that he'll make it into adolescence!''

The dragon let out a low chuckle. ''Then you had better look after him, Arthur Pendragon. Just remember this: Your path lies together and neither of you can achieve their destiny without the other.''

With that it spread its huge, leathery wings and, with a few forceful flaps, swung itself into the air, raising up above them and vanishing in the darkness.

Arthur cleared his throat. ''That was a dragon.''

''Yes, it was.''

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned back towards the stairs. ''Why did you hear it in your head?''

''It must be able to talk like the druids do,'' Merlin said with a shrug as he followed him.

''The druids talk in their head?''

''Mhmm. It's weird.''

''So, destiny, huh?'' Arthur wasn't quite sure he believed the crazy talk of a huge reptile. Maybe his father had imprisoned that thing for a reason.

''Bet you're glad you saved me now, aren't you?''

Arthur knew that Merlin was trying to tease him, but the words nevertheless cut through him and made him halt so abruptly that Merlin bumped into him from behind. Arthur turned around to the younger boy, who looked at him questioningly. And he was young, painfully so.

''Whatever else I might do in my life, Merlin,'' Arthur said, more serious than he had ever felt in his life, ''whether that dragon down there is right with his crazy mumblings about destiny or not, there will never be a moment in my life that I won't be glad I saved you. I could not stand the idea of you getting hurt. And that has nothing to do with destiny and everything with, well...''

He faltered and grimaced a little, because he knew what he felt but he had no idea how to put it into words. It seemed too strange, too foreign, to a boy who had grown up knowing that he was meant to carry the burden of his birth alone, that all there was for him was to strive for betterment even if there was never the comfort of love and affection to be found as reward. Merlin was not meant to be that comfort to the prince who had laden such guilt on his conscience, but Arthur couldn't deny that he was taking it from him anyway, like a thief in the night.

''You are not completely awful at being a stable boy, you know?'' he finally said, feeling awkward and inadequate.

Merlin must have heard something else though, because his face split into a wide grin and he nudged Arthur a little as he walked past him. ''Well you are not completely awful at that whole princely saviour thing, you know? Just remember that one day I will save you, and then you better give me a raise for it or something.''

Arthur huffed out a surprised laugh at the boy's cheek. ''Of course Merlin, should that day come when you will save me, I will give you a raise.''

''Great. I'm glad we can agree on that.''

''I'm sure you are.''

''You're still a prat, you know?''

''And you are still an insubordinate little imp.''

''You love me like that.''

''Merlin?''

''Yeah?''

''Shut up!'' Arthur said, and nudged Merlin onwards with a grin.

  


Merlin smiled, and continued to climb back up the stairs towards the grand corridors of the castle. He didn't know what he had expected to find down here, in the bowels of the citadel, certainly not a dragon, and certainly not the answer to a question that had plagued him as long as he could remember. So there really _was_ a reason Merlin was different. The druids had been right, there _was_ a great destiny awaiting him. But, unlike Merlin had always feared, he didn't have to walk it alone. There was someone to share that venture fate had bestowed upon him, someone to share the burden and the honour of it. Their tale had been foretold a long time ago; Arthur had been meant to save him and, one day, Merlin would stand at his side and protect his king just the same.

Finally, Merlin had found what he had been looking for. This, right here, was the place where he belonged.

http://i.imgur.com/Kupn9d1.jpg


	2. Chapter 2

**~ Five Years Later ~**

 

Arthur loved the summer days close to Lammas. They were filled with golden sunshine and warmth, but left a brisk coolness lingering inside the thick stone walls of the citadel. Standing at the window of his chambers, he was looking out into the courtyard or, more accurately, towards the shadows at the far side of it where Merlin was sitting on the steps, playing with one of the cook's cats. He had a piece of meat pie in one hand, his lunch Arthur assumed, and was using the other to pet the grey fur of the tabby, averting her sneaky attempts to steal his food.

Arthur couldn't help the fond smile that crept onto his face. Sometimes it felt as if Merlin had not grown up at all. In a way, he had remained that imp of a boy Arthur had brought with him all those years ago, even if he was almost as tall as Arthur now. His cheeky demeanour had turned a bit mulish as he grew into an adolescent, but there was still that warm, boyish affection in the insults he kept throwing at his prince.

Still, the years that had passed brought many changes. When Arthur had come of age, he'd officially been crowned Prince of Camelot which brought with it a whole new set of responsibilities and, even more important, he had become First Knight of the realm. Merlin was still holding the official position of Arthur's stable boy, but he had come to be so much more than that. Whenever Arthur rode out on a mission or a longer patrol, Merlin would be by his side. He took on the duties of a squire and servant and – if Arthur was quite honest – had turned into a confidant as much as a comfort, someone who kept reminding Arthur of who he was and who he strived to be.

Arthur had kept his promise of protecting Merlin, even though Merlin never made it easy and there had been more than one fight between them because Merlin was an idiot who kept using his abilities for the most ridiculous reasons – like helping Arthur when he didn't need any help at all and would have been perfectly fine. It had remained a constant worry through the years, especially when Merlin wasn't with him and Arthur had no way of knowing what kind of mishap the boy was getting himself into right then. At least that burden would soon become easier to bear.

''So what do you think?''

''Huh?'' Arthur frowned, startled out of his thoughts, and glanced over his shoulder to where Morgana was sitting at his table, munching on his grapes. ''About what?''

Morgana looked taken aback for a moment before her eyes widened in an expression of outrage. ''Arthur Pendragon! You haven't listened to a word I said!''

She jumped out of her seat and strode over to him quickly, stepping up close to throw a look out of the window. ''What are you even looking a- oh. Of course.'' Morgana rolled her eyes and scoffed a little.

Arthur raised his eyebrows at her. Maybe it was a women thing but she made less sense every day. ''What are you even talking about?''

Morgana gave him her best 'Oh, please' look. ''You,'' she said dryly. ''Staring at Merlin. Not really a surprise there.''

For a moment Arthur probably made a very unattractive impression of a fish. Then he spluttered, ''W-What!?''

''Oh, don't sound so shocked, Arthur. You're pretty obvious about it, you know.''

''Obvious about _what_?''

Morgana stared at him with her eyebrows raised for a long quiet moment, but when Arthur only stared back at her expectantly, her expression turned almost stunned.

''Come on, Arthur, you- You can't be serious.''

''I seriously have no clue what you're talking about.''

''Your crush. On Merlin.''

''My what now?''

Arthur gaped at Morgana's exasperated face, trying to gauge whether she had turned crazy – well, more crazy than usual – or was just having him on. Morgana had a special fondness for making him uncomfortable, which was the _only_ reason why his heart had sped up at her words.

''Oh please,'' Morgana said, cocking her head. ''You take that boy with you wherever you go.''

Arthur blinked. That was not true... but even if it was, there was a very good reason for it. ''You know damn well how quickly Merlin manages to get into trouble,'' he snapped. ''I shudder to think what I would find upon coming back, if I were to ride out for a whole day or two without him.''

Morgana bit her lip, obviously trying not to burst out with laughter. ''Oh my, you two really are precious. So that's the only reason you're taking him. Of course.''

''Well, no,'' Arthur amended with a frown. ''It's not like I can take Morris, he's nearly a hundred.''

''He's not yet seventy.''

''Precisely. I can't make someone who could be my grandfather sleep on the forest floor.''

Morgana's eyebrows nearly vanished into her hairline. ''But you can make him walk up and down all those steps to your chambers repeatedly?''

Arthur glared. ''I've been asking him to retire for years, Morgana. That man is as stubborn as a mule. Now, finally, he agreed, but only because one of his daughters lost her husband to a bad fever and she needs his help.''

That stopped Morgana short for a moment, her voice astonished when she asked, ''Morris is retiring?''

''That's what I just said.''

''Then who's going to be your new manservant?''

Arthur hoped the look he gave her conveyed that he thought she must be especially slow to ask such a question. '' _Mer_ lin,'' he said drawing out the first syllable. ''Obviously.''

Morgana's eyes widened, but it was more with glee than surprise. ''You're making Merlin your new manservant?''

''It's what I've been wanting to do for years. I can keep much better tabs on him that way.''

''Uh huh. Will he move into that adjoining room, I wonder?''

''It's the easiest solution,'' Arthur said, wondering why he sounded slightly defensive about it. It was the truth after all.

Morgana pressed a hand to her mouth, but her shaking shoulders gave her away.

''What are you laughing at, you crazy harpy?'' Arthur asked, narrowing his eyes in a full on glare.

''Nothing. Nothing at all.'' She bit her lip and took another glance out of the window. ''I mean, I can't fault you. He's a nice looking lad.'

''Oh my gods, he's a _boy_ , Morgana!'' Arthur cried, outraged and offended and some other things he couldn't name. ''He's eight years younger than you!''

''Yes, but only what...? Five years younger than you?''

''Four and a half.''

Morgana did break out in laughter then, actually wiping at her eyes with the back of one slender hand. ''Oh my gods, this is priceless. I wonder what he will say about it.''

''Why? He'll be happy about it, what else?'' Arthur asked, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at her through narrowed eyes.

''Oh, yes,'' Morgana said gleefully. ''I'm sure he'll be _very_ happy about it! Just... tell me how it goes, all right?'' With that she patted him on the shoulder, and turned to go, still slightly snickering in a very unladylike fashion.

''Wait,'' Arthur called after her. ''What did you want my opinion on?''

''Oh, never mind,'' Morgana said with a casual wave as she slipped out the door. ''I've had enough entertainment for one morning.''

Arthur glared after her some more before he turned back towards the window. Really, Morgana was getting more and more lunatic with each year that passed. Merlin was just a boy. A good boy, yes, maybe a bit foolish but with his heart in the right place and loyal to a fault. But Arthur wasn't... he could _never_... it just wasn't right. And Arthur didn't... not with Merlin.

He glanced down towards the courtyard again where Merlin had been sitting on the stairs just a moment ago. But now he wasn't, and he wasn't alone anymore either. He was standing over at the entrance to the kitchen, talking to Guinevere, Morgana's handmaid, laughing and smiling and even blushing a little. Arthur frowned. He'd better go and tell Merlin about his new job right away. There was no sense in dawdling and Merlin, too, had better get on with his tasks. Decisively, Arthur turned away from the window, striding out of his quarters with a completely appropriate amount of hurry and purpose.

~*~

In that obnoxious way Merlin had to never be where Arthur expected him to be, as if he _liked_ being chased down by the prince, the courtyard lay deserted when Arthur arrived. Arthur scowled a little and turned his steps to the stables, resigned to spend the next hour searching for his wayward stable boy. It was that kind of behaviour that proved why making Merlin his manservant was the prudent thing to do. As his manservant, Merlin's duty would be to take care of Arthur's every need, and to do that he had to stay with him and not run around the castle doing who-knew-what kind of foolish things.

As much of a relief as it was, it was also a mystery to Arthur how Merlin had managed to keep his magic secret for all these years. Sometimes he felt as if Merlin was using his powers right, left and centre whenever Arthur turned his back on him. And when he was caught – by Arthur, only ever by Arthur, but how long could that luck hold? - Merlin would swear it was an emergency and no, he would never do it again. Only the average time Merlin would abide to such a promise was a week and then the next emergency occurred. So, really, Arthur needed to keep Merlin close for his own safety as much as for Arthur's peace of mind, and making him his manservant was the best solution. For everyone.

Arthur finally found Merlin at the paddock, where he was just releasing Hengroen after a ride – and how Merlin had managed to charm Arthur's stallion who normally threw any rider who wasn't Arthur was another mystery.

''Merlin! There you are!'' Arthur called, impatient after waiting for Merlin to get back. ''Finish up here and then get your stuff from Gaius. You're moving into my quarters.''

Merlin whipped around, startled. ''What? Arthur! I'm doing what?''

Arthur couldn't quite suppress a grin when he leaned against the wooden rail to give Merlin the good news with an air of nonchalance. ''Morris finally retired. You're to be my new manservant.''

Merlin rolled his eyes. Unfortunately he had never quite learned to behave with the proper conduct around his prince. “Right. As if you're father would ever allow that.''

It was true that the king had been surprised by Arthur's request at first. To be offered a position like that in the royal household was a great honour, and would normally go to an experienced servant with the proper background, both of which Merlin lacked. But Arthur could be quite persuasive when he need to be.

''Actually, I have just spoken with him,'' Arthur said, giving Merlin a smug look. ''And he approved of my idea.''

Merlin petted Hengroen one last time and then approached Arthur, the stallion's bridle slung carelessly over one shoulder. His expressive face showed his surprise that turned more and more into uncertainty with every step.

''Really?'' he asked softly when he came to a stop in front of Arthur on the other side of the rail.

Arthur couldn't help the fond smile that spread over his face and he reached out to ruffle Merlin's hair. It was getting long again and was still soft like a baby's. ''You've shown yourself to be quite loyal, Merlin,'' he said warmly and then, when Merlin's mouth spread into a broad smile, hurried to compensate it with a little admonition. ''Though you better start addressing me with the proper respect from now on!''

Merlin scoffed. ''What? I always treat you with respect!''

Arthur shook his head. ''You're going to serve the royal family at meals and during feasts, Merlin,'' he said patiently. ''You can't keep calling me Arthur there.''

''But...'' Merlin hesitated, and now he looked like that little lost boy Arthur had saved so long ago. ''But in private? I mean... I don't call you Arthur when there are other people around anyway.''

There was a cough coming from their left, and they both whipped around to see Sir Leon, handing his horse to another of the stable boys. He gave Arthur a small bow, but didn't manage to hide his grin.

''Sire,'' he said, with maybe a little more emphasis than he normally would.

Arthur turned back to Merlin with a smirk and raised his eyebrows in a silent challenge, but when the younger boy just scowled and even _glowered_ at Sir Leon's retreating back, Arthur couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh. Merlin was just priceless sometimes.

Merlin's expression turned even darker then. ''Maybe I don't want to serve at your stupid feasts!'' he grumbled. ''What if I don't want to become your manservant?''

At that Arthur's smile vanished. He wasn't quite sure how serious Merlin was, but the words were like a painful stab in Arthur's guts.

''I could order you,'' he said coolly.

Merlin narrowed his eyes at him and for a moment they just stared at each other – and how ridiculous was that? Merlin was his bloody stable boy who should simply do as he was told, but somehow what was true for every other servant in the castle didn't apply to Merlin. Because Merlin was special and tugged at Arthur's heartstrings even after all those years.

Finally, Merlin looked away. ''Yes,'' he sulked. ''You could. But then you'd be even more of a prat than you normally are, so I don't think you will.''

Arthur didn't even acknowledge the familiar insult. There was a weird numbness in his chest when he said, ''No. If you are so set against it, then I won't.''

Merlin looked up from where he was staring at his feet and his eyes softened a little. It was strange how attuned he seemed to be to Arthur's moods sometimes, but he was also stubborn as hell.

''It's just... What if I mess up? Right in front of your father? Or Morgana? You tell me all the time how clumsy I am!''

Arthur frowned and cleared his throat, looking to the side before he mumbled, ''You're not that bad.''

Merlin leaned against the rail and put his head on his arms, glancing up at Arthur from under his lashes. He sighed. ''I'd still rather-... Why can't we keep things as they are? You know, me being your stable boy?''

Arthur stared right ahead, at where Hengroen was nosing at a few dried up stalks of grass.

''I thought you'd be happy to spend more time with me instead of less,'' he said and was glad that his voice didn't give away the hurt and disappointment that was churning in his stomach. ''But if you'd rather stay here at the stables, I won't force you. There are a lot of other servants who would see it as an honour to fill the position.''

''What... what do you mean less time?'' Merlin asked, head coming up with a confused frown. ''We can still do the hunting trips and the patrols and-'' He stopped when Arthur threw him a disbelieving look. ''What?''

''Merlin,'' Arthur said with barely held back exasperation. ''You accompanied me on these trips because Morris is over sixty and was glad to be excused of trudging through the forest and sleeping on the floor. Whomever takes on the job of being my manservant after him will be much younger. There won't be a reason to take you with me instead.''

He turned away then, unable to keep up this conversation that had turned out a lot different than he had planned. Why, he had thought Merlin would be proud and happy to be elevated like that in the household, to earn better wages and, yes, to see Arthur more often. But apparently that wasn't something Merlin was keen on at all.

''You can take a few days to think about it,'' Arthur said stiffly. ''But I need a new manservant by the end of the week.''

There might have been a whispered ''Arthur...'' when he stalked away towards the castle, but he couldn't be sure and his pride and dignity felt too bruised already to turn back and confirm it.

~*~

It had been two days during which Arthur had not spoken to Merlin, had hardly even seen him. He had been occupied with council meetings and preparations for the upcoming Lammas celebrations _._ The hour was late and the fire was burning low already, and Arthur had sent Morris off, assuring him that he could actually be trusted to undress and get himself to bed on his own for once. So it was with a surprised frown that Arthur looked up from his reading when there was a knock on the door.

''Enter,'' he said, closing the book with his finger marking the position between the pages.

The door opened to reveal a sheepish looking Merlin with a huge bundle in his arms, which seemed to hold all of the boy's belongings, haphazrdly thrown together as if in a hurry. The small book slipped from Arthur's fingers without him noticing it.

''Merlin,'' he said, standing up and looking at the younger boy uncertainly. ''What-''

''I've brought my stuff!'' Merlin blurted, sounding rather defensive. ''I probably won't be any good, and I'm sure you're going to sack me after a week, but- If the offer still stands, then... yes. I'd like to be your manservant. I guess.''

Arthur raised his eyebrows and blinked. ''You guess?''

Merlin shrugged, which made a few garments slip out of the bundle and drop to the floor. ''I have no idea what I'd be doing really, and I'll probably embarrass you but, well, that'll be your own bloody fault then!'' He faltered, and when he looked at Arthur now his face was a picture of misery and remorse. ''But I don't want you to be mad at me, Arthur. And I _do_ want us to be able to spend time together! If I have to be your manservant for us to do that... then that's what I'll be.''

He looked determined now, hopeful and still uncertain, and Arthur had to press his lips together to keep from smiling. He was almost a little embarrassed at the relief he felt, but he certainly wouldn't let Merlin know how upset he'd been these past days, thinking that the younger boy was going to refuse the position – because how could Arthur protect him if Merlin wasn't by his side?

 

Now that Merlin would live in the adjoining room and spend most of his time with him, Arthur could stop worrying constantly about what Merlin was doing, whether he was getting into some kind of trouble and whether he was using magic to get out of it.

Arthur nodded to the left, where a small wooden door stood half open. ''Your room's over there,'' he said, his voice a little rough. ''Put your things away before you scatter your clothes all over my floor.''

Merlin ducked his head with a small smile, and then bent down to grab the fallen clothes, which caused his hold on the rest to become even more precarious. Before he turned around, Arthur caught a glimpse of Merlin's teeth burying into his plush bottom lip and he was almost sure that there was a rather prominent blush creeping up the boy's cheeks. With an absentminded smile Arthur picked up his book. He was quite glad that things were going to be a lot easier from now on.

Merlin closed the door behind him and promptly sagged against it. He had no idea what he was doing here, but Arthur hadn't been down at the stables and Merlin had grown more and more agitated as one day turned into another. In the end, he had known that there was only one solution. If he wanted to stay close to Arthur, becoming his manservant was the only option. He realised that it was actually an honour many of the other servants would envy him for but, to Merlin, it felt like a slap in the face. As if his stupid destiny was taking the piss and had decided to make his life just that little bit more difficult than it already was.

Over the years Merlin and Arthur had become something that he was sure both of them would call friends, if the royal prat would allow himself such a thing. Merlin was well aware, though, that their relationship was not that of equals, and that had nothing to do with their respective positions. No, Arthur still felt responsible for Merlin, like an older brother. Even more than that, he saw it as his duty to protect Merlin, still trying to make amends for something that had happened years ago and - Merlin was now more certain than ever - had not really been Arthur's fault at all.

It was still frustrating. This was not what the dragon had promised Merlin all those years ago, _kept_ promising him with its stupid riddles, while laughing at Merlin's sullen looks. Arthur, of course, didn't want to discuss the dragon or his talk about their shared destiny. While he had come to think differently on the matter of magic than the king and the laws of Camelot expected him to, Arthur didn't trust a beast that his father held prisoner and – so he said – had no reason to feel well disposed towards them. It drove Merlin up the wall sometimes, but if Arthur wanted to ignore something there was no moving him.

More and more, though, Merlin had come to resent the way Arthur looked at him – all fond and indulging – for a completely different reason. A reason that was so stupid that Merlin hardly dared to admit it to himself. He _knew_ it was ridiculous. Merlin was a servant, a peasant, _and_ a warlock. Oh, and also not a girl. Arthur, on the other hand, was the prince. The very handsome, golden-haired and blue-eyed prince who was also brave and strong and the best warrior in all of Albion, and he would never look at Merlin the way Merlin stole glances at Arthur, feeling his heart beat painfully in his chest with longing.

Merlin winced, embarrassed at his own thoughts. He felt mortified that he was thinking of Arthur in that way, that he apparently wasn't any better than all those ladies and servant girls and probably even old wrinkly grandmothers who swooned at Arthur's sight. At least _they_ had no idea what a prat he could be – not that the knowledge had done anything to change how Merlin felt about the clotpole.

Merlin sighed and hung his head. What had he gotten himself into here? He only had a vague idea about what being Arthur's manservant entailed, but he was pretty sure he'd get to see a lot more of him. Probably in his flimsy sleeping tunic or maybe even taking a bath and, oh gods, Merlin's traitorous heart was almost jumping out of his throat at _that_ idea. Torture, that's what it was going to be. When they slept huddled together in the forest on longer patrols or hunting trips it had been difficult enough, but at least no one had gotten naked there. Merlin might have whimpered a little then just thinking of the words "Arthur" and "naked" in the same sentence.

Trying to pull his mind away from thoughts of Arthur in various stages of undress, he looked around the room that was to be his new home. It was nice enough. Probably a little smaller than his old one but, since it lacked Gaius' clutter, there was still more space than he previously had. The bed was slightly bigger too, Merlin noticed, and the mattress was softer. It smelled a little dusty but then the room had not been used in years. It was nothing that a good airing wouldn't help with.

He dropped his belongings on the bed and started to fold the few garments he owned, putting them away into the small wardrobe. He was aware that he was stalling. He should probably go back out and ask Arthur about his new duties, ask what was expected of him now.

''You're all settled in?''

Merlin whipped around, finding Arthur leaning in the doorway, and his heart clenched a little at the sight.

''Yes,'' he croaked. ''Thank you. Do- Do you need me to, you know, do something?''

Merlin shuddered inwardly – gods, could he be anymore embarrassing? Was this how it was going to be from now on, him stumbling over his words as much as his feet?

But Arthur just gave Merlin an amused smile and nodded over his shoulder towards his chambers. ''Yeah, come on over, then you can start your duties right away. It's late, so we should probably just prepare for bed.''

Merlin was glad that his room was only illuminated by a single candle. At least that way Arthur could probably not see him blushing. He followed Arthur back into his room and looked at him expectantly.

''So, what do you want me to do?''

Arthur raised his eyebrows at him, which made Merlin scowl a little. Really, he had told the prat that he didn't know how to be a manservant.

''You could start by banking the fire. Then turn down the bed and lay out my sleeping tunic before you help me undress.''

Merlin's heart might just have skipped a beat at that. ''Help you undress?'' he asked. He did not squeak.

''Yes, Merlin,'' Arthur said, long-suffering patience evident in his voice. ''Think you can handle that?''

He knew Arthur hadn't meant it like that, thank the gods, but the question still made Merlin choke a little. ''Of course I can handle that,'' he scoffed, turning his head to hide his burning cheeks. ''I'm just surprised you can't undress yourself! Most people manage when they are your age.''

''Yes, and so do I, _Mer_ lin.'' Arthur said with familiar exasperation. ''It might surprise you, but I actually do know how to bank a fire or turn down a bed as well. Doesn't mean I'm going to do your job for you. Honestly, sometimes I wonder whether you even know who I am.''

''Prince Prat of Camelot?''

A strong arm gripped him around his neck and then his scalp was ruffled with a little more force than Arthur normally used, but he laughed when he said, ''You're still the same cheeky little imp you've always been! Better start learning some manners from now on!''

He shoved him towards the fireplace and Merlin ducked his head with a grin, but inwardly he sighed a little. ''I'm actually sixteen, you do know that right?'' he grumbled as he sank down in front of the hearth.

''And your point is, Merlin?''

''I'm not a boy anymore!'' Merlin snapped, glaring over his shoulder at Arthur who was grinning down at him as he leaned against the table with his arms crossed over his chest.

''If you say so,'' he replied with that obnoxious amusement of his and pointed across the room. ''My sleeping garments are in the wardrobe over there.''

Merlin didn't stick his tongue out at him. Because that would have only proven Arthur right.

 

Arthur had grabbed his book and settled back into his chair, but he had yet to read a single page. Instead, he watched from the corner of his eye as Merlin pulled at the heavy blankets and linen that made up Arthur's bed and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He could have given Merlin a few pointers, of course, but what would have been the fun in that?

When he had properly desecrated Arthur's bed, Merlin moved on to the wardrobe, cursing softly under his breath as he rummaged through it.

''It's the second shelf on the left,'' Arthur said, turning a page after all, if just for pretence.

''Yes, Sire,'' came Merlin's voice from half inside of the wardrobe, and somehow he managed to make the honorific sound even worse than his usual insults. Arthur grinned.

Finally, Merlin had laid out his white sleeping tunic on the bed and stood next to it shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

''Well?''

''Yes, Merlin?''

''Are you coming?''

''In a moment.''

Merlin huffed and flopped down on the mattress, bouncing a little. Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head. He wondered what he had gotten himself into with Merlin becoming his manservant, but it would have been a lie to say that he felt even so much as a sliver of regret. If nothing else, Merlin was entertaining – unless he displayed the same behaviour in front of Arthur's father, but then he was reasonably sure even Merlin had more self-preservation instincts than that.

''Are you still not done?'' Merlin whined after a few minutes.

''Merlin! I'm the prince, and I'll let you know when I am ready!''

''Of course. I'll just keep sitting here then,'' Merlin said, launching back on the bed. ''Only you haven't turned a page in the last five minutes and I know you're a faster reader than that.'' He gave Arthur a challenging look and, this time, Arthur couldn't hold back his laugh.

''Fine,'' he said with an exaggerated sigh and a mocking glare, closing the book. ''If you insist.''

He strode over to Merlin and, coming to a stop right in front of him, looked at him expectantly with his hands on his hips.

Merlin fidgeted under his gaze, worrying his bottom lip. ''Do I just-...?'' He gestured to Arthur's chest.

''It works about the same as when you do it for yourself,'' Arthur said dryly, grinning when Merlin narrowed his eyes at him.

''All right.'' Merlin took a deep breath and then got up, putting on his determinedly uncaring face before he reached out towards the fastenings of Arthur's tunic.

Arthur just stood there and let Merlin work, but he couldn't help the smile that escaped him when Merlin's tongue started poking out between his teeth as he concentrated on loosening the knots. He glanced at Arthur uncertainly a few times but continued when he didn't say anything.

''Okay, lift your arms,'' Merlin finally told him, looking a little nervous, and Arthur wanted to laugh but somehow it got stuck in his throat. Somehow he couldn't turn his eyes away from that endearing blush tainting Merlin's cheeks and his fingers itched to reach up and touch it, stroke along the sharp line of a cheekbone, put in even harsher relief in the low light of the candles.

''Arthur?''

''Oh.'' He cleared his throat. ''Yes, of course.''

There was a strange little flutter in Arthur's stomach when he lifted his arms and, when Merlin's hands brush along his flanks whilst gathering up the tunic, it sent an involuntary shiver down Arthur's spine. Merlin's hands had always seemed so small, but now his fingers were long and slender and Arthur was all too aware of them, coasting up his arms and leaving strange tingles along his skin. Arthur sucked in a deep, almost shocked breath when his cock twitched in confused interest, and he quickly turned away as soon as the tunic was lifted over his head.

''You uh- You can put that into the basket for the wash,'' he said, carding a shaking hand through his ruffled hair. ''The tunic, I mean.''

What in the gods name was wrong with him? Merlin was a boy – barely more than a child – and entrusted to his care and protection! Having thoughts like this about him was wrong in so many ways...

''Okay.''

Merlin, thankfully, seemed to not have noticed Arthur's improper reaction, or at least he sounded completely unperturbed.

''Sit down.''

Arthur glanced at Merlin, confused at the command, but his new manservant just raised his eyebrows expectantly and then huffed a little when Arthur made no move to do as he said. He reached out and, before Arthur realised what he was about to do, Merlin's hand was pressing warmly against his chest, causing Arthur's heart to take a weird lurch right beneath it. He couldn't remember Morris ever putting a hand on him like that. Then again, Merlin and him touched and tussled a fair bit more than was appropriate, but somehow feeling Merlin's hand on his bare skin was completely different all of a sudden.

''I can't take your boots off otherwise,'' Merlin explained, unaware of Arthur's thoughts, and then pushed him down on the bed with a dubious look. ''Unless you want me to magic them off, of course.''

''No!'' Arthur almost yelped, shooting Merlin a warning look. ''No magic.''

Merlin only rolled his eyes and sank down on his knees in front of Arthur. He sat back on his feet, smiling up at him broadly, with his lips slightly parted and his eyes crinkling at the corners, and all Arthur could do was stare.

''Something wrong?'' Merlin asked as he pulled off the boots, and Arthur nearly let out a desperate laugh.

He shook his head instead. No, there was nothing wrong, because Arthur wasn't thinking devious thoughts about pushing the pad of his thumb against Merlin's smiling lips, prying them open to explore the soft, wet heat beyond. He wasn't thinking about Merlin hollowing his cheeks around it, sucking--

Arthur closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, willing his heart to slow down and hoping to keep his prick from hardening any further. He felt flushed and his skin was too tight and _what was he thinking!?_

''Hey!'' Merlin's voice was soft and worried now. ''Are you all right?''

A hand came to rest against Arthur's knee, and he jerked, nearly jumping up from the bed. ''Yes! Th-thank you, Merlin. I think I can do the rest on my own.''

''What? But-''

''That will be all, Merlin.''

It came out sharper than he had intended, and for a moment Merlin just stared at him with his eyebrows drawn together, the cupid's bow mouth pulling into a pout. Not that Arthur was looking at Merlin's mouth. Or his eyes, which were really blue and had very long lashes. It took all of Arthur's willpower to tear his gaze away, and he swallowed heavily against the tightness in his throat.

''Good night, Merlin,'' he said quietly.

Merlin still hesitated, but then he turned away with a badly hidden look of hurt.

''Good night, Sire.''

For all the thousand times Arthur had told Merlin that he should use his proper title, he'd never had expected it to hurt like this when he finally did, without any mocking but with just the slightest trace of bitterness.

After Merlin had left – the door falling shut sounding like a silent accusation – Arthur sank back on his bed and stared at his hands. Traitorous bastards they were who wanted to touch what they were not allowed to, wanted to do things that Arthur hardly dared to name, depraved as they were. And not to just anyone, but to _Merlin._ Arthur felt completely disgusted with himself.

He would not think about such things again. He was tired, and Morgana's words from the day before must have confused him. He didn't see Merlin that way, of course he didn't. Merlin was his charge. He had become something like a friend as well – as much as someone like Arthur could have them – but that didn't change the fact that he was subordinate to Arthur, dependent on him and still so young.

Arthur knew very well that there were those who had no qualms to take advantage of such a situation, and if it was with a boy there was no risk of bastards, but the very idea was despicable to Arthur. From as early as he had been able to understand what went on in the chambers of some Lords at night, Arthur had sworn to never behave in such an atrocious way. He would never have anyone bribed, threatened or forced to lie with him, and if he could, he put a stop to any such situation that came to his notice. He might be the Crown Prince but he was also a knight and a man of honour and he was better than this.

Decisively, Arthur grabbed his sleeping tunic and pulled it over his head. He slipped out of his breeches, extinguished the last of the candles and crawled under the covers, closing his eyes and willing his mind to think of other things. The knights' training. The grain stores. The upcoming tournament for the Lammas celebrations.

But as he lay in the silence of his room he was all too aware of Merlin's presence just beyond the door. He wondered whether Merlin was already sleeping. What he was thinking. He had seemed upset when he had left. Arthur fought down the urge to slip out of bed, to go and have a look. He could not. Merlin was probably asleep already, face buried into the pillow and limbs sprawled in every direction. His dark hair would stick up in tufts and his mouth would be slack, lips slightly parted--

Arthur turned completely stiff when his cock hardened again from that image alone. He balled his hands into fists and willed his erection to go down, but with little success. This was completely ridiculous. He had seen Merlin sleep lots of times and he had never reacted to it this way. Now though, when all the times Merlin had slept next to him came to mind, the way he would turn towards Arthur and press closer in his sleep, Arthur's prick seemed to see those situations in a wholly new and very interesting light.

He's bony, Arthur thought desperately, there's nothing soft or yielding about him. A flat chest and skinny hips, not the voluptuous curves of a woman's body. All those long, lanky limbs – though they could be surprisingly graceful at times, especially when Merlin was working with the horses. Thoughts of Merlin's hands petting Hengroen's strong neck filled his mind, the contrast of those pale, long fingers to the stallion's dark coat. The way Merlin would bend down to look for small stones inside the hooves, his breeches pulling tight over his backside--

Arthur groaned and turned around, pushing his face into the pillow and forcing himself to take deep, calming breaths. His cock was hard and pressing against the mattress. The temptation was sore, but he forced himself to lie still. He would not touch himself.

He would think of the grain reports, the very boring grain reports. Barrels of grain. How many people did one barrel feed, how many days... what if the winter was long, how many days would that be? It was important to know. If the winter was harsh and there was not enough in the stores, his people would starve. Women and children and old people, grey with exhaustion, their cheeks hollow and their eyes sunken in their faces. It was his responsibility. Arthur counted and calculated and filled his mind with numbers, imagining to write them down in neat lines.

At some point he must have fallen asleep because he woke, with a start, from a fitful slumber, as the first light of dawn crested the treetops framing the lower town and crawled through the high window opposite the bed. The sheets had become twisted around his legs and he shivered in the cool air of early morning. Normally he would have pulled up the covers and buried himself in the warmth of them, indulging in another hour of dozing comfortably until Morris would wake him with his breakfast. There would be no Morris this morning, though, and the thought of Merlin had Arthur stumbling out of bed as if his sheets were on fire.

Arthur wasn't a coward, he really wasn't, but he couldn't remember the last time he had sneaked out of his room. The guard down the corridor straightened, startled out of a doze, and Arthur glared at him silently but deemed it better not to say anything so as not to provoke any remarks about his own strange behaviour. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was down the corridor and turned towards the stables.

Even after an early morning ride, Arthur was still one of the first out on the training grounds. The conditions were perfect, a little cool with the sky overcast, but the ground was dry, and Arthur was looking forward to beating the living daylights out of a few of his knights. He called one of the squires over to help him with his armour and then proceeded to defeat his first unfortunate victims thoroughly and maybe a little too enthusiastically – if the groans and curses were anything to go by.

''You seem to be in a good mood, Sire,'' Sir Leon finally said, stepping up to take over from one of the younger knights who left the field hunched over. It was said casually, but Arthur was quite certain he detected a hint of sarcasm in Leon's speech.

''I have no idea what you're talking about, just trying to bring the men up to shape.''

Leon nodded with a solemn face. ''Well, Sir Galahad, certainly has achieved a rather interesting shape there. Though I'm sure those ribs are only bruised and not broken.''

Arthur frowned. He might have been a bit harsh on the younger man, but it would surely be a lesson well learned. He turned back to Leon, raising his eyebrows in challenge.

''Are you up for it then?''

Leon put on his helmet and raised his sword in answer. Arthur grinned. The tall knight was a talented swordsman and defeating him was always a lot more satisfying to Arthur than it was with some of the younger ones – or some of the old ones who had grown too sure of themselves and too uncreative, for that matter. But while Leon fought well and at least managed to make him sweat a little, Arthur wasn't called the best warrior in Albion for nothing.

He was just about to bring down his final, winning blow that would knock Leon's sword out of his hand when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a mop of black hair and too big ears. _Merlin_. What the--

The broad side of Leon's sword caught Arthur against his helmet and he staggered, his ears ringing from the forceful blow. It wasn't often Arthur made a mistake like that and it apparently took Leon so much by surprise that he nearly missed the opportunity to knock Arthur on his back and end the fight.

Looking up at his opponent from the ground was not a view Arthur was used to. He sat up, pulling off the helmet and shaking his head with a frown, but reached out to take the hand that Leon offered him.

''What was that?'' Leon asked, sounding almost taken aback. ''It's not like you to lose focus in the middle of a fight.''

''I just thought I saw...'' Arthur mumbled, looking around for Merlin.

Leon followed his gaze. ''Ah,'' he said, and now he sounded amused. ''So what did you do?''  
  
''Huh? To whom?'' Arthur gave him a dubious look.  
  
''Merlin.'' Leon nodded toward his scrawny manservant.  
  
''Why would you think-?''  
  
''He's been hanging around, looking like a kicked puppy all morning,'' Leon explained, eyes sparkling with hidden mirth.  
  
Arthur frowned. ''He should be doing his job, not loitering around.''  
  
''Which is why I asked what you have done. That boy is completely infatuated with you and yet he's scowling at your back now as if you’ve insulted his mother’s honour.''

Arthur choked out a laugh. ''What!? What in the gods name are you talking about? He's a child! Which is the only reason I'm not having him in the stocks every day for the way he keeps insulting me!''

Leon raised his eyebrows at him. ''Is that so? Well, I don't know about the stocks, but if I remember correctly Merlin turned sixteen a while ago. That's hardly too young to feel attraction or fall in love for the first time.'' Leon raised his eyebrows when Arthur looked at him stunned. ''Don't tell me this comes as a surprise to you, Arthur. That boy has been following you around, making moon eyes, from the day he first arrived at Camelot.''

''Has Morgana put you up to this?'' Arthur finally asked suspiciously, and Leon barked out a laugh, shaking his head.

''No. But it doesn't surprise me that she'd notice, too.'' Leon grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, before he turned and walked back towards the other knights. ''Don't be too harsh on him, all right?''

Arthur sighed and then started to make his way over to where Merlin was glowering at him with one of his best mulish expressions.

''Merlin! What are you doing here?''  
  
Merlin's glare got even darker. ''Well, that's what I wanted to ask you!''  
  
''Pardon? What's-''  
  
''You were gone this morning!'' Merlin said accusingly.  
  
''I had an early trai-''  
  
''You're such a dollophead!'' Merlin cried indignantly, once more completely ignoring even the most basic rules of conduct. ''Why did you even make me your manservant?''  
  
''Merlin,'' Arthur hissed. ''You cant talk to me like that!''  
  
''Yeah? Well, watch me!''  
  
''No, Merlin,'' Arthur pressed through gritted teeth, grabbing Merlin and dragging him back in the direction of the castle. ''You really can't address me like that, not in front of the knights!''  
  
Merlin, at least, had the grace to look chagrined then.  
  
''I told you I have no idea what to do,'' he complained a little more subdued, trying to keep up with Arthur's long strides. ''You didn't tell me anything, so I came looking for you! Honestly, if this is how it's going to be, I'd rather go back to being your stable boy. At least your horses have manners.''

''Manners?'' Arthur scoffed. ''As if you're one to talk!''

''Arthur!'' Merlin stopped so abruptly that Arthur nearly stumbled.

''What?'' Arthur snapped, and then immediately regretted it when Merlin took a step back his face an open display of surprised hurt. Arthur deflated.

''I'm sorry,'' he said, feeling like a complete arse. It wasn't Merlin's fault, after all, that Arthur's brain had conspired with other parts of his body to turn him crazy overnight. ''I didn't sleep so well. Go fetch some lunch and bring it up to my rooms, all right? I haven't eaten yet. And then we can go over your new duties.''

Merlin gave him a sulking look, arms crossed over his chest and shoulders hunched, but then nodded and turned away, walking off into the direction of the kitchens.

He still looked sullen when he came to Arthur's chambers a little later, carrying a heavy tray and putting it in front of Arthur without so much as a word or even looking at him. Arthur sighed. It seemed he had to make some amends.

''Sit down?'' he asked, smiling at Merlin entreatingly.

Merlin glanced at him with an uncertain frown. ''Why?''

''To have lunch.''

''Gwen said I'd have to stand behind you and serve you or something,'' Merlin mumbled.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. ''Gwen?''

''Had to ask someone how this is supposed to work, right?'' Merlin shrugged. ''Hengroen and Llamrei were perfectly fine with me just dumping their hay in front of them, but I wasn't sure whether that would go over so well with you.''

Arthur laughed into his hand. ''Isn't that what you've just done?'' he asked, unable to keep the amusement from his voice. ''But Guinevere is right. That's how you'd do it if I were to dine with my father or any other member of the court. But, since it's just the two of us in the privacy of my rooms, will you please sit down? It'll make my neck ache if I have to keep looking over my shoulder while I talk to you.''

Merlin huffed a little, like it was a hardship to sit and eat with Arthur, but pulled out the chair next to him and flopped down on it. Arthur put some food on an extra plate and then shoved it over to Merlin, who looked at him suspiciously.

''What?''

''Nothing. You're just being awfully nice all of a sudden, and I'm wondering why's that.''

''You might not realise it, Merlin, but I'm generally rather nice-''

''Don't think Sir Galahad would agree.''

''...especially to _you_.''

''Wasn't nice to just run off like that,'' Merlin muttered, while shoving pieces of chicken into his mouth.

''Well, yeah, I- actually, I don't really have to explain myself to you. I'm the Crown Prince, and if I want to get an early start into the day, that's my perogative.''

''But you didn't tell me wha-'' Merlin immediately groused, but Arthur interrupted him before he could start another lament.

''Which is why we're going to talk about it now.''

''Hmph.''

''So, uh... your job would be to wake me up in the morning-''

'' _If_ you're still in your bed.''

Arthur ignored him and continued. ''Bring up my breakfast, lay out my clothes and, well, help me dress.''

Arthur shot Merlin a glare when he started to snigger at that, telling himself the heat rising up in his cheeks was from righteous frustration.

''You'd also have to clean my room, polish my armour and my sword, draw me a bath if I require it, see that my clothes are washed and-''

''Pretty much wait on you hand and foot,'' Merlin concluded with a grumble.

Arthur grinned at him through his teeth. ''Now you've got it.''

Merlin glowered at him and bit into his chicken leg with a lot more force than necessary. He chewed silently for a while, sulking really, but when he finally looked up again from his plate he looked almost worried.

''What about Llamrei and Hengroen?'' he asked hesitantly.

Arthur frowned. ''What about them?''

''Well, you know Hengroen really doesn't tolerate any of the other stable boys, and Llamrei might be less difficult but she is used to me, and she doesn't like it when-''

''Merlin,'' Arthur interrupted him, and the younger boy fell silent, biting his lip. It was an old habit that he somehow had never grown out of, and it always brought back memories of their first weeks together, how shy and vulnerable and _small_ Merlin had been.

''You can still fool around with the horses,'' Arthur said with a wry smile now. ''Don't worry. Just have one of the other boys do the mucking and help you with the tack. You won't have time to do it all. And no, you're still not allowed to use magic.''

Merlin narrowed his eyes at him. ''What about for protecting you?'' he asked defiantly.

'' _Protecting_ me?''

''Well, you know what Kilgharrah said to us. And when I told him I was going to be your manservant, he said it was about time because you're going to face many threats, now that you have come of age. Or at least I think that's what he said.''

Arthur grimaced. It was a recurring topic of discussion between them, whether or not a dangerous beast, held captive by the king, could be trusted. ''You've been talking to the dragon again? I thought we agreed that he's full of it and probably crazy besides.''

''No, _you_ agreed on that!'' Merlin replied acidly. ''I think what he says makes perfect sense.''

Arthur shot him a look of complete disbelief at that, and Merlin quickly amended, ''All right, that might be pushing it, but he said we have to protect each other. And how would you have me do that without using magic?''

''I wouldn't have you do it at all!'' Arthur snapped, and then stood up, starting to pace agitatedly. ''Because magic is outlawed under the penalty of death! Honestly, Merlin, what is so hard to understand about that?''

''I _do_ understand it!'' Merlin said reproachfully, turning around to look at Arthur. ''Doesn't mean it's right, or that I have to like it! It's a stupid law and I'll break it in a heartbeat if I have to!''

''Merlin...''

''You are breaking it too, to protect _me_!''

Arthur halted, staring at the younger boy's accusing eyes. His heart was beating painfully against his rips. ''That's not the same.''

''Why the hell not?''

''Because I won't be found out. Not if you don't do something stupid!'' _Because I probably wouldn't burn for it. Because you are worth it and I owe you so much more than that._ Arthur didn't say all that, would never say it out loud, but he felt it, deep in his heart and that was why he couldn't believe the outrageous riddles the dragon was spouting.

Merlin's expression had turned furious now, maybe even a little hateful. It hurt to have the younger boy look at him like that, but it was necessary.

''And stop talking to that overgrown lizard! He's only putting nonsense in your head.''

Merlin turned away from Arthur then, his whole frame radiating bitterness. He crossed his arms over his chest and pressed his lips together. '' _Fine_.''

Staring at the back of Merlin's head, Arthur sighed inwardly – so much for making amends. He felt the overwhelming urge to step up behind him, put his hands on Merlin's shoulders and press a kiss into those dark locks in silent apology. But he didn't.

The silence hung heavy in the air.

''I have a patrol,'' Arthur said finally. It was even true. ''You can eat up and then take the plates back to the kitchen. And ask them for the water buckets. I'll want a bath when I get back.''

''Yes, _Sire_.''

Arthur opened his mouth, but he had no idea what to say. In the end he just turned around and left, trying hard not to feel as if he was running away.

 

When the door fell shut behind Arthur, Merlin was hard pressed not to throw his plate after the cabbage head. By the gods, Arthur could be infuriating. Merlin took a few calming breaths and then proceeded to eat his chicken because there was no sense in wasting something good just because it was impossible to get through the famous thickness of a Pendragon skull.

He had to admit he felt completely out of his sorts because while Arthur could be rather obstinate and obnoxious on the best of days, his behaviour had now become even more erratic. Merlin didn't understand why Arthur had been so hell bent on him becoming his manservant only to start avoiding him as soon as Merlin accepted the position. Only he had avoided him on the days previously as well, so maybe he was still irritated with Merlin for not saying yes immediately. Knowing Arthur, he had seen that as a personal insult. But then Arthur was not someone to fake affection. He didn't smile when he was upset, and he didn't tease when he was truly angry. So maybe there was something else weighing on his mind, something he was too stubborn to share with Merlin, as was often his wont until Merlin wheedled it out of him.

With a long-suffering sigh, Merlin finished his lunch and then stacked the plates to take them back down to the kitchens. He swore that sometimes it felt like he was the older one of them. He looked around the mess of Arthur's rooms, which were obviously lacking the former care of Morris, and set to work. He didn't use magic for it – all right, he didn't use _much_ – and it took him the better part of the afternoon to clean up after the prince.

When the sun was sinking lower on the horizon, Merlin remembered that Arthur had said to prepare a bath for his return and went to fetch the needed firewood and the buckets to heat the water on the hearth. He pulled out the wooden tub, laid out linen for drying after, and finally went to fetch a platter for Arthur's dinner. Then he sat down and waited, but he had not been prepared for how long a wait it turned out to be.

Merlin turned more and more agitated when dusk approached and Arthur was still not back. This, right there, was proof that the prat couldn't take care of himself and needed Merlin by his side to protect him. What if they had gotten into trouble? What if they had been attacked? What if Arthur was hurt? With every passing mark on the candle, Merlin's imagination came up with worse and worse scenarios that had Arthur alone and surrounded by bandits, bruised and beaten or even struck down and bleeding out on the ground. He was almost ready to go down to the stables, saddle Llamrei and bloody well go looking for the clotpole himself when the doors to Arthur's rooms were pushed open.

The patrol had been a complete disaster. When they had come upon one of the outlying villages, they had found it in upheaval. Apparently some sort of beast had been sighted further to the east, but no one was able to say what kind of animal it was that had purportedly destroyed houses and killed livestock and maybe even had dragged a young girl off – the reports were outrageous at best and bordered on the fantastic. If the rumours were to be believed, it was taller than a house, had large glowing eyes and _wings_ that spread further than twice the size of a man on each side. If Arthur hadn't known better, he would have thought the dragon had managed to escape, only no one had said something about breathing fire, but instead there was talk of an enormous beak.

Whatever it was, the people were scared and it was Arthur's responsibility to reassure them and protect them, so he had promised to investigate the issue. They had combed through the forest, riding a lot further than they had planned, but they had only been five men and had found exactly nothing. In the end Arthur had to turn back to Camelot, planning to ride out again tomorrow with a larger group of knights and better equipped.

It was still long after sunset when he arrived back at the citadel, and Arthur was caught in a state between nervous agitation and exhaustion. He hoped Merlin had done as he'd told him and would have a bath ready to be drawn; the idea of immersing himself into the soothing warmth of the water held a lot of appeal right now.

He had not expected to find Merlin so unsettled upon his return, though. When Arthur stepped into his rooms, Merlin turned around from his place in front of the fire, jumping up immediately and rushing forward with a worried expression.

''Where have you been so long? Did something happen? Are you all right?''

Arthur stopped short, almost a little taken aback, but any urge he might have had to laugh it off was stifled when he realised how truly upset Merlin was. He had stepped right into Arthur's personal space, nervous hands flitting over the chainmail covering his body, as if they had to ascertain for themselves that there were no wounds to be found.

''I'm fine, Merlin,'' he said, taking a step back with a tired smile. ''Just knackered.''

He placed his sword on the table and took off his gloves, rolling his neck where the muscles were stiff from a day of riding in full armour.

''Don't tell me you've been worried?'' he asked, shooting Merlin a questioning glance over his shoulder.

If Merlin's blush was anything to go by, the next words out of his mouth were an utter lie. ''No, of course not. Why would I be?''

Arthur huffed out a small laugh. He saw that there was a platter of cold meats, cheese and fruit waiting for him, as well as a jug of watered wine. They were his favourites, and Arthur felt something loosen inside his chest. He wondered whether the food was due to the cook or Merlin offering him an olive branch, and hoped it was the latter.

Merlin was shifting behind him, shuffling his feet. ''I prepared a bath, like you said,'' he announced a little uncertainly. ''Want me to...?''

''Help me out of the armour and mail first?''

''Of course.''

Merlin stepped forward, shooting him another worried glance, and started to loosen the straps holding the gorget and pauldron in place, before carefully taking them off and placing them on the table. The vambraces were next, and Arthur had the opportunity to watch Merlin's face and nimble fingers, glad to just stand still and let him do the work. It wasn't that Morris had not been efficient, but Merlin's hands somehow seemed more caring, tender almost, as they gently moved Arthur arms about, and he felt himself start to relax by those ministrations alone.

In the light of the fire and the few low-burning candles, Merlin's lashes painted long, sooty shadows on his cheeks, his face appearing more adult somehow with all the angles put in stark relief. His lips were parted slightly, and Arthur felt the sudden need to just bend down and capture them with his own, find out if they tasted as sweet as they looked. It would have been so easy, just one simple move. He didn't, of course, and the moment was gone a second later, when Merlin carefully gathered up the chain mail and started to lift it over Arthur's head.

Merlin lay the mail out at the end of the table and then turned back to Arthur with a small smile, stepping up to him and starting to undo the fastenings on the gambeson. And just like that, Arthur's breath caught and, even though his every limb was beyond tired, his cock seemed conscious enough to take an interest. Arthur's heart picked up the pace, every beat seeming to reverberate in his chest, and he knew he should probably step back, put some more distance between them, but somehow his body didn't want to cooperate.

He wanted to say something, address their fight from earlier that day, but the only words he could think of seemed inadequate somehow.

''I'm sorry about before,'' he said finally, quietly.

Merlin only hummed, and then pushed his hands under the heavy padding to take it off. Arthur wore only a thin tunic underneath and the touch of Merlin's hands, gliding up his chest and over his shoulders, left a trail of tingling warmth even though his skin seemed to pebble with goosebumps in their wake. Merlin was so close now that Arthur could feel his breath against his throat and, for a second, he had to close his eyes as he was assaulted by ideas of pulling Merlin forward until their bodies were pressed against each other and burying his face against the long, slender neck.

Merlin stepped around him and took off the gambeson, moving away to put it over the back of a chair.

''The bath,'' Arthur pressed out through a throat that felt too tight. ''You can draw it now.''

''Okay.''

He had not thought about how short a reprieve this was going to get him though, because soon enough Merlin had filled the tub with steaming buckets of hot water from the fire and Arthur realised, suddenly, as if this had not been self-evident, that bathing would involve him getting naked. In front of Merlin. Completely naked.

Morris had been an old, married, silently efficient man, who had been Arthur's manservant since his eighth birthday when he had grown out of the need for a governess. The barriers of status and age had been far too great for them to become more than master and servant, but Morris had seen the prince grow into a man, always a quiet and guiding presence, and there had been no place for embarrassment or any sense of shame. This, Arthur could tell, would be a completely different matter with his new manservant.

''It's ready,'' Merlin's voice tore Arthur out of his epiphany and the slight mortification, thankfully, let his erection wane.

''Thank you.''

''Uh...want me to help you get out of your clothes?'' Merlin asked with a questioning look, his face a little flushed from handling the hot water.

''N-no, I can do that myself.''

Merlin frowned, arms coming up to cross over his chest again. ''So you've said. You also said, it wasn't your job but mine. What, am I doing it wrong somehow?''

''No... I just-''

Unfortunately Arthur had no idea what explanation he could give that was not _'I just get hard every time you touch me.'_ \- which was out of the question for obvious reasons.

Merlin heaved a sigh when Arthur didn't say anything further, and went ahead, grabbing Arthur's tunic and gesturing for him to raise his arms with a mildly irritated expression. Arthur, taking deep, calming breaths, managed to keep his cock under control while Merlin kneeled and took off his boots. But when he raised his hands to loosen Arthur's breeches all efforts fell through, and Arthur had to quickly turn away before he lost the rest of his dignity.

''What?'' Merlin asked, sounding annoyed.

''Nothing. Put another log on the fire, will you? It's getting a little chilly.''

It really wasn't, and Arthur could well imagine the dubious look Merlin was giving him behind his back. Nevertheless, he complied - which Arthur confirmed with a glance over his shoulder before he pulled off his breeches and stepped into the tub, quickly sitting down and hiding any evidence of his depravity.

Sinking into the warmth of the water felt like a blessing, though, and Arthur groaned in relief as he stretched out his legs and leaned back, slouching a little until the nape of his neck met with the wooden rim. The heat seeping into his aching muscles was a wonderful comfort and as his body relaxed, his prick, thankfully, flagged again

For a while Arthur just enjoyed the soothing warmth and silence, his thoughts drifting. But it was late and his stomach empty, and so he blinked after a few minutes, looking around for the soap and flannel. And where had Merlin gone to?

''Merlin? Where's the soap?''

''Oh! Sorry!''

Merlin stepped back into his line of sight, holding the two missing items. He looked even more flushed now. Arthur wondered about the cause, when Merlin's eyes dropped down towards the surface of the water and then quickly up again, before he hastily shoved the soap at Arthur.

Arthur regarded him through narrowed eyes. He suddenly recalled Leon's words from that morning, about Merlin being infatuated with him, though he still wasn't really convinced they held any truth. Lathering the cloth, Arthur kept watching Merlin, who was standing next to the tub fidgeting under his gaze. His eyes were darting all around the room, never meeting Arthur's. _Interesting_.

''So... How was patrol?'' Merlin finally blurted out. ''Why did you come back so late?''

''We encountered rumours about some kind of beast in one of the outlying villages,'' Arthur said, starting to wash his arms and chest, eyes still on the younger boy. ''Tried to investigate the issue, but didn't find anything.''

''Oh.'' Now Merlin did look at him. With his eyes glued to Arthur's face, he looked almost a little desperate. ''What sort of beast?''

''Apparently one with _wings_.'' Arthur rolled his eyes, but Merlin didn't laugh. Instead he became thoughtful.

''Wings? Maybe it's a creature of magic?''

''Or a figment of the imagination. We didn't find so much as a trace! Still, we'll have to ride out again tomorrow and search the area.''

''I could come with you,'' Merlin offered eagerly, and Arthur raised his eyebrows at him.

''I don't know, Merlin. It could be dangerous. What if the beast is real? They said it dragged off a fair maiden. What if it mistakes you for a girl and decides it wants a bite of you next?''

''Maybe it'll decide it wants a bite of your princely back side!'' Merlin scoffed.

Arthur chuckled, and then, in a moment of recklessness, held out the piece of cloth.

''Speaking of... wash my back for me, will you?''

Merlin's eyes widened, and Arthur immediately felt like a arse when he saw that the hand reaching out to take the flannel was actually shaking. Even with the shame he felt, Arthur still couldn't help the rush of blood shooting down to where his cock was hanging heavy between his thighs, twitching in anticipation at the idea of feeling Merlin's hands on him. What in the gods name was wrong with him? Even if Leon was right and Merlin had some sort of boyish crush on him, that didn't mean that Arthur's own desires were appropriate.

But it was too late now, and Arthur realised, with a wildly beating heart, how much he was playing with fire when Merlin's cool fingers pushed against his shoulder, guiding him to lean forward over his pulled up knees. At least his groin was hidden from sight this way. A fact for which Arthur was immensely grateful because his cock kept hardening further when Merlin started to move the cloth from Arthur's neck, over his shoulders and down his spine in gentle circles that felt much more like a caress than a cleansing.

Neither of them spoke a word, the silence stretching between them and making Arthur even more aware of Merlin's hands against his heated skin. It was a slow torture that had Arthur torn between arousal and self-disgust. He knew he shouldn't feel that way, but he was unable to stop himself. Bowing his head down further, he tried to calm his laboured breaths, hoping the heat in his cheeks, at least, could be explained away by the warmth of the water. Merlin's touch felt sensual – and that shouldn't be possible, he was just a gawky boy after all, but Arthur was completely, painfully hard when Merlin's hands glided down further to the small of Arthur's back and then the cheeks of his--

''Thank you, Merlin!'' Arthur blurted, his voice loud in the silence, and Merlin's hand jerked away as if it had been burned. ''I think... I think that will be enough,'' Arthur nearly stuttered.

Merlin didn't say anything but it took a moment before he turned away and then brought over a large linen cloth for Arthur to dry himself with. He held it out, and Arthur rose from the cooling water, keeping his back carefully turned. He quickly grabbed the cloth and wrapped it loosely around his hips. Thankfully, the sleeping shirt Merlin had already laid out on the bed was a little big and helped hiding his body's reaction even further.

However, the mood had turned rather awkward when Arthur sat down at the table, and he ate in silence, brooding and watching while Merlin flitted about the room, getting it ready for the night. He was avoiding Arthur's eyes the best he could, and it made Arthur's heart sink a little. He couldn't help but worry that Merlin might have realised Arthur's unduly urges, and of course a boy as young as Merlin wouldn't know how to handle such a thing.

''Did you have dinner?'' Arthur finally asked, and Merlin hummed in response again.

''Yeah. I ate with the other servants down in the kitchen.''

He still didn't meet his eyes.

''Ah.''

''Do you need me for anything else?''

Arthur looked down at the remains of the food, but he felt reluctant to send Merlin down to the kitchens again just to clean it up. There was a slump to the younger boy's shoulders and a weariness in his face.

''No. You can take the plates down tomorrow when you fetch us breakfast. Go to bed, Merlin. It's been a long day.''

''All right.'' Merlin hesitated for another moment and then gave Arthur a small smile before he turned around and vanished into his room.

Arthur chewed mechanically for a few more moments, but his tiredness didn't leave much room for hunger, and so he finally pushed the plate away, picking up the goblet and blowing out the candles on his way to the bed. He drank a few hearty swallows, stepping up to look out from his window over the dark roofs of the town. He might have joked about it, but he was worried about the mysterious beast. Whatever danger lurked outside the walls of Camelot, he hoped that it wasn't going to move in their direction. Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow he would get to the bottom of it all. And, hopefully, focusing on his duties would also help him keep his thoughts from turning to things he had no business thinking about.

With the last candles extinguished, Arthur slipped under the covers and rested his weary head on the pillow. He was beyond tired but it seemed his mind was still too agitated, his body too tense, and however much he tossed and turned, sleep eluded him.

Then, just when his heavy limbs seemed to finally give in, Arthur heard it: A soft moan, coming from the direction of the door. Next there was a low whining that was quickly muffled, but Arthur was sure that he had not imagined it. He froze. The sounds were coming from Merlin's room. Harsh breaths, loud in the silence of night, their rhythm too fast for someone who was sleeping. But maybe Merlin was having a nightmare. It had happened before. Arthur only realised he had slipped out of bed when his feet touched the cold stone of the floor. For a moment he hesitated but then got up and quietly made his way to the door leading to the adjoining room. If Merlin's nightmares were back, he needed to know.

The door had not been closed completely, and Arthur was a little surprised to see a flicker of light through the gap. It seemed that Merlin, the idiot, had left the candle burning. He really should know better than that. Arthur stretched out his hand, ready to push the door open further, to walk in and extinguish the candle at least, when the moan coming from the room turned into a name.

'''Nghhaarthuur.''

Suddenly, the harsh panting conjured images of a very different sort in Arthur's mind, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he stepped closer to the door, pushing against it to widen the gap another inch.

Merlin's bed stood right along the wall opposite the door and Merlin was on it, but he had not crawled under the blankets and gone to sleep. No, he was lying on top of them, naked from the waist down, his sleeping tunic shoved up to his armpits.

Arthur's breath caught. The sight was like something from a dream, too heady and forbidden to be true. Merlin's slender but wiry frame was spread out in the flickering light of the candle, which painted dancing shadows against his pale skin.

Merlin's head was thrown back, facing away from Arthur but exposing the long line of his throat, and his open, gasping mouth. The rest of his body was laid out like a feast: long legs spread apart and knees pulled up slightly, the narrow chest heaving with wrecked breaths. The black ink of Merlin's tattoo was standing out against his unblemished skin - mysterious, swirling lines that Arthur had not seen in a very long time. He had almost forgotten how beautiful it was. Right now though, Arthur's eyes were drawn helplessly to Merlin's hands that were rather busy between his legs.

The long, pale fingers of his right one were wrapped around a large, full cock which was rising up from a dark nest of curls towards Merlin's taut stomach. It was pulling on the stiff length with almost languid strokes, the glistening head vanishing inside Merlin's fist time and again. His other hand was occupied with even more indecent things, reaching further down, to where Merlin's cleft parted the cheeks of his arse. Two of his fingers were rubbing insistently, in a perfectly hypnotic rhythm along that crack and over the small pucker hidden within.

The sight left Arthur completely breathless.

It was impossibly obscene, impossibly erotic and impossibly beautiful, and Arthur could do nothing but stare at these twin movements, at the way Merlin rolled his hips and arched his back, writhing on the sheets. He wondered how he could still hear Merlin over the rushing of blood in his ears, and had to bite his lip so that his own moans would not escape from his dry throat.

Arthur's hand found his cock after lifting his shift with trembling fingers. It was hard and leaking, and he pressed his palms against the hot, throbbing flesh. His eyes were glued to Merlin, unable to comprehend that this lascivious creature was _his_ Merlin, the same scrawny, cheeky boy who had been his companion in all these years.

''Arthur...'' Merlin whispered, his strokes becoming faster, and Arthur nearly choked on his gasp. Had Merlin really... was he? Arthur couldn't stop himself, he had to take himself in hand, matching his rhythm to the one Merlin was keeping up, staring at the fingers circling his hole, watching him moan and bite his lip and--

Arthur groaned and grabbed his cock tight around the base.

He hadn't realised how much the sound had carried until Merlin's hands stopped. The naked body on the bed ceased all movement, and Merlin seemed to even hold his breath as he listened, obviously anxious, into the night. Arthur didn't dare to breathe either, standing completely still behind the door, staring with his heart beating like thunder in his chest. His skin broke out in goosebumps as he noticed, all of a sudden, how cold the night had become, how his bare feet were freezing on the cold stone.

Merlin seemed to shiver too, but then he slowly relaxed, his hands picking up the rhythm again. Arthur still didn't dare to make a move, even though his rock hard cock was throbbing between his legs, begging for attention. Soon, Merlin's breaths became hitched, his muscles tensed and there was a low chant of, ''Oh oh oh ah Ahhrth- Arthur!''

Merlin's hips jerked up, his release spurting all over his chest and belly and Arthur bit into his lip so hard to keep silent that he tasted blood. He took a step back, and then another one, even though it felt like he was fighting against an invisible force. He closed his eyes, but the image of Merlin coming in wild abandon, calling his name, was branded behind his eyelids.

The sound of shuffling blankets and the creaking of the mattress tore Arthur out of his state of shock and he hastened to get back to his bed and silently slipped under the covers. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his thundering heart, wondering whether Merlin would come out of his room and into Arthur's – for whatever reason. But Merlin didn't. There were a few more unidentifiable noises and the creaking again, and then silence. For long moments Arthur lay in his bed, listening, but there was no more sound coming from Merlin's room; it seemed as if he had fallen asleep after all.

Arthur, on the other hand, was wide awake. His cock was still just as hard, bordering on painful, and after a few more minutes Arthur gave in, letting his hand wander down his stomach and to his throbbing length. A shuddering sigh left his lips as he tentatively started to stroke himself.

Images of Merlin assaulted him, naked on his bed, holding his arms out in silent begging. Arthur knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help but imagine himself crawling between those wantonly spread legs, to touch Merlin, his broad hands possessive on those narrow hips, the quivering thighs and the round swell of Merlin's arse. He imagined trailing his lips from Merlin's stomach up to his chest, to kiss the dragon tattoo and lick at his small, pebbled nipples. He imagined to kiss him, like he had wanted to do before, soft and tender but insistent, and how Merlin would yield with a breathy sigh, his arms coming up to wrap around Arthur's shoulders, his hands carding through his hair and pulling him down, turning the kiss fierce and demanding.

Their cocks would rub along each other, two hot columns of flesh, wrong and so right, and Arthur would take the salve Gaius provided him with to avoid any chafing of his armour, would spread it over both their lengths. He would stroke them together for a while before he let his fingers trail down, cupping Merlin's balls, and further still to that place Merlin had been caressing. Arthur would rub the broad pad of a finger over the small furl, spreading the salve and then pressing against it and in, into the tight heat that was Merlin, his druid boy, so impossibly precious.

Arthur would keep stroking inside of him, pushing his finger deeper, seeking out that spot and rubbing it gently. He would add another finger, opening Merlin like a secret treasure, bending down to let his tongue join his fingers and taste Merlin in this most intimate place. Then Arthur would spread his broader frame over Merlin's slender, coltish body, would replace his fingers with the tip of his cock and push in, pressing into Merlin and taking possession, filing him up with his manhood, owning him like he had never owned anything else and would never again, because this was Merlin, the only thing that had ever truly belonged to Arthur.

It was with that thought that Arthur came, silently, his whole body tensing and arching up from the bed as he held in the one word he dared not let escape.

_Merlin._

After he had quietly cleaned himself up, Merlin lay awake in his bed for a long, long time. That glorious prat of a prince had probably no idea what he was doing to him on a normal day, but watching him bathe had been like the worst kind of torture. All those hard, chiselled muscles that spoke of the warrior Arthur was. That smooth stretch of skin, marred as it was with the scars of battles, glistening golden and wet in the light of the fire. His blond, tousled hair and the long expanse of his throat. That devilish smirk that lingered in the corners of the mouth Merlin longed to kiss, longed to feel pressed against his own instead of just brushing against his temple or the top of his head.

But Arthur still saw only the child in him, the boy he had saved all those years ago and that he could never allow to grow up, grow out from under his wing to become the equal he was supposed to be. Even if Arthur didn't really believe in it, Merlin had talked to the dragon often enough. Theirs was a destiny entwined, and Merlin only wished that Arthur would finally let him own up to it. The other thing, of course, would probably always remain a fantasy.

Merlin felt slightly ashamed that he thought of Arthur that way, and it felt even more outrageous to do so in the room adjoining to Arthur's, where the prince lay sleeping, not knowing that Merlin was stroking himself to hardness, imagining his own hands to belong to Arthur, imagining the prince's broad frame looming over him and preparing Merlin for that most thrillingly indecent act two men could indulge in. Not that Merlin knew much about it, but he listened to the rumours and whispered stories just like any boy his age.

It had only heightened his arousal when he realised he had not closed the door properly. For a moment he had thought that he'd heard a sound and the idea of Arthur waking and coming to investigate, of him finding Merlin touching himself on his bed, moaning his name, had sent a new burst of arousal through him. He imagined Arthur stepping inside, looking at him with his cool blue eyes turned heated. He wouldn't say a word but come over and push Merlin's hands away impatiently, only to replace them with his own. Merlin could honestly say he had never come that hard before.

With a groan Merlin turned on his stomach. He knew he had to get over this stupid infatuation, it would only ever lead to heart-break for him. Arthur, after all, could never accept him in this way, and even if he had been the kind of person to tumble a servant for some one-off fun, Merlin knew in his heart of hearts that wasn't what he really wanted. No, Merlin was the idiot who wanted it all, and he was pretty sure that, even if the dragon was right about their destiny, it wasn't _that_ kind of union the prophecies had spoken off.

The mission to track down the beast that was terrorizing the kingdom had once more been completely unsuccessful. Arthur entered his chambers, looking around for his manservant, and then stopped short when he found the room lit up with dozens of candles.

''Merlin?''

''Over here.''

Arthur turned around to face the bed and felt his jaw go slack at the sight that presented itself to him. Merlin was naked, sitting on Arthur's bed, casually leaning back on one outstretched arm while his other hand was lazily stroking his cock.

''W-What are you doing?'' Arthur asked, the words coming out in nothing more than a whisper.

''I've been waiting for you.'' Merlin raised his eyebrows expectantly. ''Are you coming?''

Arthur swallowed, his throat felt parched. ''My armour-''

''Tsk.'' Merlin waved a hand, and when Arthur stared down at himself he wore nothing but his tunic and breeches.

''Merlin! You can't-''

''Fine. I'll just keep sitting here then,'' Merlin said shrugging and giving him an impish look from under his lashes. Only it didn't look innocent anymore, it looked seductive and much too appealing for Arthur's comfort.

He didn't realise he had taken a step, more than one in fact, until he was standing right in front of Merlin, looking down at him. ''What-?''

Merlin's eyes were blown wide and his skin was radiating an almost unnatural heat when he reached out to Arthur without ever turning his burning eyes away.

''It works about the same as when you do it for yourself.''

''We can't,'' Arthur said. ''We shouldn't.''

''But you want to.''

The truth. The undeniable, condemning truth. ''Yes.''

The smile on Merlin's face was too beautiful to be true. Right then and there he was the culmination of everything Arthur had ever wanted.

The door crashed open, banging against the wall, and Arthur whipped around, too startled to make sense out of what he saw next. His father strode in the room with two guards flanking him. He hardly looked at Arthur though, and immediately turned his cold blue gaze on Merlin.

''Arrest him!''

''What!?''

Now his father looked at him, but it was filled with so much contempt that Arthur wished he wouldn't. ''He's a sorcerer, Arthur. He has enchanted you without your notice. Who knows how long this has already been going on. It's disgusting, and he will be executed right away. There can be no mercy for his devious acts against the kingdom.''

''What? That's not true! Merlin hasn't enchanted me! He has done nothing wrong!''

''Be silent. You have brought enough shame on me, yourself and this kingdom,'' Uther said before turning to the two guards. ''Take him away. Right to the courtyard. The pyre is waiting.''

An icy cold spread through Arthur's veins. No, this couldn't be happening. He had plans; even for the worst Arthur had planned ahead, but never had he expected his father to rush an execution like this. He thought he'd have time to smuggle Merlin out, to free him, to save him and let him go.

''Father, please, let me explain, this is all wrong. It's my fault, not Merlin's. All of this.''

''Don't be ridiculous, Arthur!'' Uther scoffed impatiently.

''No!'' Arthur grabbed his father's arm, desperately trying to come up with something that would convince him. ''I never asked you for anything. Father, I beg of you!''

Uther rounded on him slowly, his eyes full of disbelief. ''You _beg_ me? For a peasant who is worth less than the dirt on your boots? If I had still needed more proof that he ensorcelled you, this would be it.''

Uther waved a hand at the guards, who grabbed a shocked looking Merlin and marched him out of Arthur's chambers.

''I can't let you do this,'' Arthur said as if he couldn't believe his own words.

''I am your king!'' his father snapped. ''You better remember who owns you.''

They were in the courtyard now, but Arthur was not entirely sure how they had got there - or why it was filled with the smoking remains of tents and bodies. It was with cold dread, that Arthur looked down to the ground and saw a hand sticking out of the rubble. A hand holding a familiar doll. When he looked up again there was a pyre. Merlin was upon it, tied to the pole. Arthur shook his head in desperate denial when flames started licking at the wood. No. No! He drew his sword and pushed through the rows of people suddenly filling the courtyard, but there were too many, with every person he shoved away there seemed to appear two others and the fire was licking higher, reaching for Merlin's long legs, his torso--

Merlin's eyes were on Arthur. They were frightened and full of hurt betrayal, and Arthur felt his heart break. With a desperate shout he pushed against peasants and knights, fighting his way through the crowd with sword and brutal force, determined to get to Merlin, determined not to fail him again. Arthur had promised. He'd promised to protect him. He couldn't watch this happen.

Suddenly a shadow obscured the sun, and something looking like a dragon with an enormous beak swooped down on Merlin, going right for the place where the dragon tattoo covered his chest, right for Merlin's heart. Large wings and smoke obscured Arthur's view for a moment, and when the beast flew up again Merlin was gone.

Arthur woke with a start, panting for breath, his own heart beating like a drum in his chest. He stared at the canopy above him, realising he was in his chambers, lying in his bed, and the pale light of morning was filtering through the windows. It had been a dream. Only a dream. Merlin was all right. He was fine and probably still asleep in the next room. Arthur sucked in a deep breath, but it didn't quite help to get rid off the vestiges of fear lingering in his heart. It had not been the first dream like this. In the beginning, he had seen it in his sleep almost constantly – the camp, Merlin dying and Arthur incapable to do anything. These terrors still haunted his nights every now and then, but it had never felt so real. Merlin had also never been naked before.

Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he rubbed his palms over his face and then almost jumped out of his skin when he realised that he wasn't alone in his room. Morgana was standing at the foot of his bed, looking like a ghost in her long, white nightgown, her face distraught.

''Morgana?'' Arthur gasped out, suddenly not sure he was really awake.

Morgana only kept staring at him with wide, frightened eyes.

''Am I still dreaming?'' Arthur asked uncertainly and Morgana let out a broken laugh that quickly turned into a sob.

He was out of bed in a second then. ''Morgana, what's wrong? What are you doing here at this time and... dressed like this?''

Arthur hesitantly put an arm around her, and Morgana's fingers immediately clawed into his tunic. ''You can't ride out after it Arthur, you can't!'' she begged, sounding desperate.

''W-What?''

''It will kill you! I saw it!''

''What are you even talking about Morgana?'' Arthur asked, shaking his head that was still fuzzy with the cobwebs of fear and failure.

Morgana drew back a little then, looking at him imploringly. ''The beast,'' she whispered. ''It was huge... it had wings and talons and-''

Arthur looked at her startled. ''How would you know that? Did you talk to Father last night? I thought you were in bed already.''

''I know it because I dreamed it!''

''You had a nightmare?''

Morgana shook her head, tears spilling from her eyes now. ''No. No, Arthur. I had a vision.''

Arthur winced in sympathy and then pulled her into an embrace, awkwardly petting Morgana's back when she pressed her tear-streaked face to his chest. Morgana's so called visions had become more and more frequent in the last months but most times they were too vague to even make sense, and Arthur was not completely convinced that at least some of them were not simply nightmares. Whether they were visions or nightmares didn't really matter though, Arthur knew Morgana was scared by the terror and violence they held.

Morgana had been plagued by dreams as long as Arthur could remember and, seeing how she had lost both her parents and home as a young girl, it was no unexpected that her fears would manifested in such a way. It had not been until the previous winter, when the dreams had apparently become worse – so bad in fact that Morgana had thought she was going crazy – that she had told Arthur she believed them to be visions. At first, Arthur had been more than sceptical, but there had been undeniably more than one incident where Morgana had dreamed of events that would only come to pass days later and there simply was no better explanation for it. They kept it hidden of course; Morgana didn't have to remind Arthur of the promise he had given her a long time ago. Even if she was the king's ward, premonitions were often associated with magic, and speaking of that was bound to open Pandora's box. And neither Arthur nor Morgana were completely sure what Uther Pendragon would do, if he ever found out of either of their secrets.

''I'm not even sure this beast is real, Morgana,'' Arthur said, trying to reassure her, while still trying to shake the images of his own nightmare. ''Don't worry too much, all right?''

''I saw it,'' Morgana mumbled against his chest. ''And I saw you... you were lying on the ground. You were dead, Arthur.'' She gulped back another sob and then drew back from him, wiping at her eyes. ''You don't believe me.''

Arthur sighed. ''I do believe you, Morgana. I just don't know what you want me to do about it. If the beast isn't real there's no danger, and if it is, then you know as well as I do that it is my duty to ride out to defend and protect our people.''

Morgana turned away from him with a shiver, pulling the robe she wore over the flimsy nightgown closer around her. Arthur coughed a little.

''Maybe you should go and dress yourself,'' he said feeling a little awkward, and Morgana glared at him over her shoulder.

He held his hands up quickly in apology. ''I promise you I will be careful.'

Morgana gave him a small, shaky smile then, but she didn't look convinced. With another sigh, he grabbed a pair of breeches and stepped behind the screen to get dressed. And where was Merlin, anyway?

Just at that moment the door to the adjoining room flew open and Merlin stumbled out, yawning and rubbing at his face. He looked half asleep still, and he wasn't wearing a shirt.

''Up you go, Lazy Daisy,'' he called cheerfully, walking over to Arthur's bed.''Rise and sh-''

He stopped short, eyes widening and then flying around the room, finally finding Arthur when he stepped out from behind the screen. ''You are up already,'' Merlin said, sounding appalled. He cocked his head, eyes widening. '' _Again_ , Arthur? And... you're even dressed already!''

The look he gave Arthur was one of betrayal, and Arthur would have probably laughed, had he not been too occupied with trying not to stare at Merlin's naked chest and his tattoo, remembering how it had been rising and falling with Merlin's panting breaths last night.

He cleared his throat a little. ''Yes. I am. Unlike you.''

''Good morning, Merlin,'' Morgana's voice came from the outer room just then, and Merlin whipped around, completely startled.

''Morgana!'' he cried. ''I mean... Milady!'' He turned back towards Arthur with a heated glare. ''You didn't tell me there would be visitors in the morning!'' he hissed accusingly.

Arthur rolled his eyes. ''As if she'd announce her visits,'' he scoffed.

His eyes still tried to linger on Merlin's very naked chest. He coughed and looked away, embarrassed when he felt a blush creeping up his face.

''And could you put a shirt on? Honestly, what is it with people just stumbling into my chambers in the wee hours of the morning, half naked? Do you two even realise there is such a thing as decency?''

Merlin looked down at himself, eyes widening in shock before they flew to Morgana once more, and then he quickly turned around and rushed back to his room.

Morgana chuckled. The sound was so unexpected, given her emotional state from before, that Arthur turned to her with a surprised frown. Morgana still looked unsettled but there was some colour returning to her cheeks and, when she raised her eyebrows at him with a mocking expression, Arthur thought she seemed to be almost back to her normal, infuriating self.

''What?'' Arthur asked, not even sure he wanted to know.

''Oh, nothing,'' Morgana said with faked casualness. ''I just thought you talking about decency was a bit preposterous.''

''I beg your pardon?''

Morgana nodded at where Merlin had vanished back into his room, hopefully to hunt down a tunic. ''You've been ogling him. So it's rather hypocritical to complain about his state of undress.''

''I've- I've not been- ... _ogling_ anyone,'' Arthur spluttered. ''You're completely off your rocker!''

''If you say so.''

Thankfully, Arthur was spared any more undignified ramblings, that were probably doing nothing to dissuade Morgana of her perception anyway, because right then the alarm bells started to ring. Arthur had never been so grateful for an emergency.

A few minutes later he stormed down the stairs with Merlin on his heels, who managed to keep on a running commentary even while slightly out of breath from trying to keep up.

''I mean, it wasn't my idea to make me your manservant. It was yours. So why can't you just trust me to do the job, huh? First you say 'Merlin do this' and 'Merlin do that' and then you go and do it yourself. If I'm doing something wrong, then bloody well tell me! How am I supposed to learn, otherwise? Because apparently you have your own weird ideas about what exactly a manservant is supposed to do, since Gwen's advice certainly got me nowhere. Are you even listening to me? And don't think I don't know you're rolling your eyes at -''

''Gaius!'' Arthur called as soon as they reached the courtyard and he saw the physician standing with a large group of people who looked worse for the wear. Striding over towards them, he shot an exasperated look over his shoulder and hissed, ''Shut up, Merlin. Not now.''

Merlin, naturally, made a face at him. May the gods give Arthur patience.

''What happened, Gaius?'' he asked when they came up to the older man, looking over the assembled group of peasants with worried eyes. They were dirty and bloodied, their clothes ripped and their faces lined with shock and grief; some looked completely blank. Arthur's heart filled with trepidation.

''They are from Willowdale, Sire. They say their village was attacked by a huge winged beast.''

''Damnit.'' Arthur let out a heavy breath. ''Casualties?''

''Those who made it here are not too severely wounded, mainly exhausted. But the beast struck three of them dead and took a young boy and his mother. Their fate is unknown.''

Arthur winced. It didn't take much imagination to guess what had probably happened to them. If only he had searched more thoroughly last night, maybe these deaths could have been prevented. While Merlin helped Gaius and a distraught looking Guinevere assessing wounds and handing out water, Arthur asked a few more questions of the villagers, who stared at him with wide, frightened eyes.

''Arthur!''

His father's voice rang through the courtyard, and Arthur turned only to see him march towards them with a posse of courtiers and knights trailing behind him. ''What is the situation?'

Arthur respectfully inclined his head. ''Another village was attacked, Sire. The descriptions match: a winged monster, attacking in plain daylight. It destroyed half of their village, killed three men and took two more. Apparently, this time, the beast did not go for the livestock at all. I fear it might have developed a taste for the human flesh.''

''Which village?''

''Willowdale.''

''Willowdale?'' Uther asked. His expression turned worried. ''Then it is heading south?''

Arthur nodded. He had concluded the same. ''Towards Camelot.''

''We can not wait for that to happen. The creature has been menacing the kingdom for too long already, it has to be stopped before it can reach the town and citadel.'' The look he gave Arthur was cool and determined. ''Ready your knights, Arthur.''

''Yes, Father.''

''Sire,'' Gaius spoke up then, stepping closer. ''If I may have a word. From the descriptions I've been given, I believe I'm able to identify the creature.''

''Yes?'' Uther looked at him impatiently. ''Then what is it?''

''I believe it to be a griffin, Sire.''

''A griffin?''

''It's a creature of magic.''

Uther's expression turned stony immediately. ''Nonsense. It's a creature of flesh and blood and Arthur will prove that when he kills it.'' He looked at his son again. ''When can you be ready?''

Arthur swallowed, but his voice didn't waver when he said, ''In an hour.''

He watched his father go, and then turned towards one of the knights who had stayed back. ''Sir Leon, have the men prepare to ride out. Take a dozen. We'll ride in an hour.''

''Yes, Sire.''

Leon gave him a sharp nod and took his leave, and Arthur took a moment to feel grateful to have men like him under his command. Then a hand tugged insistently on his arm, and Arthur turned back to Merlin, who pulled even harder and dragged him off to the side. When they were out of earshot the younger boy gave him a significant look.

''Arthur, what if Gaius is right?'' he asked, sounding anxious. ''If this is a magical creature you probably won't be able to defeated it just by stabbing it with your sword.''

''Well, we will have to see about that,'' Arthur said with a sigh, knowing Merlin might have a point. ''It's not like I've got anything else.''

Merlin shook his head. ''I'm coming with you,'' he said decisively. ''You might need my help.''

Arthur stared at Merlin's determined face and, just like that, images from his dream assaulted him: the beast, bearing down on Merlin, going for his heart.

''No,'' he rasped out. ''Absolutely not! I forbid it, you hear me?''

For a second Merlin looked too taken aback to be angry, but then his face turned into a scowl. ''Why the hell not?''

''It's too dangerous.''

Merlin scoffed. ''I can protect myself!''

Arthur gritted his teeth and briefly closed his eyes. ''Yes, and I know by what means. And no way will I allow you to use them.''

Merlin huffed and glared, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly, but Arthur stared him down with unflinching eyes. ''Merlin,'' he said warningly. ''This is what the knights of Camelot are for, and you're _not_ going. It's my last word.''

With that he walked away, leaving a quietly seething Merlin standing in the courtyard. It was better that way, he told himself, he could bear Merlin's anger; what he couldn't bear was to see him hurt.

The knights rode out shortly afterwards, turning north, towards the valley where the villages had been attacked. The sun was warm on their backs, making them all sweat under the heavy armour, and the men were tense. Arthur rode ahead, trying hard not to let any of his own doubts and worries show. These were Camelot's bravest, but facing something like this was different than an open battle or hunting down marauding bandits. It was the unpredictability of the mission that weighed down on them and – even if none would have dared to voice it – the possibility of magic being a part of it.

The sun rose higher and then started to sink towards the horizon in the west again, and still they had encountered no sign of the monster. There were no tracks either, but then the beast had wings and attacked by air so that didn't signify anyhing exactly. They were riding through a sparse forest now, the air damp and rich with the scent of earth and moss. The light had turned low and the shadows became deeper. Soon it would be too dark to see.

Then, just when Arthur thought they would once more have to ride back to Camelot without having achieved anything, he heard a cry – like the screech of a bird of prey. The horses were spooked, starting to prance nervously, and Arthur quickly patted Llamrei's neck, trying to calm her. The sound came again but, as much as Arthur looked around, he could not see anything through the dense treetops.

''Form a circle,'' he called, drawing his sword, but before the men could move the horses into position, the creature broke through the canopy.

It was indeed terrifying: as big as a house, with the massive head and talons of an eagle, its flapping wings ripping off branches, thick as a man's arm, as if they were nothing more than straws. It hovered up there for a moment while it's sharp eyes stared down at them like it was taking in its prey. Then it let out another ear-splitting screech and a few of the horses started to bolt, whinnying in fright.

Llamrei reared but stood, and Arthur took a deep breath, forcing his heart to calm and calling up that cold-blooded concentration of a warrior. He took in the monster, making out what had to be its vulnerable spots, waiting for it to make its move.

Then the beast attacked, beak open wide and talons stretched towards him. Arthur's gaze didn't waver. His blood was rushing in his veins, but he waited, waited for the right moment. When it was right above him he ducked and brought his sword up in a powerful blow. He struck it hard, but the steel glanced off the creature's belly with a shower of sparks, almost as if it were made of stone.

Eyes wide with shock, Arthur brought Llamrei around and saw the monster bear down on the group of knights, wrecking havoc and knocking them asunder as if they were nothing more than puppets. Before Arthur could clear his head or come up with a plan, it turned and charged at him again. Llamrei was close to panic now, and Arthur gripped his sword harder, trying to stand his ground. He managed to avoid the beak again, stabbing at the beast this time, but once more his sword did not leave so much as a scrape. Halted by the beast's solid body, the force he had put behind the blow nearly unseated him, and then one of the beast's large talons caught him along the side and sent him flying. The world whirled around Arthur for a second before he hit the ground hard and everything turned black.

When he came to again he knew right away that not too much time could have passed, but the sun was down and the gloomy light of dusk filled the forest. Arthur lay on his front in a heap of dry leaves, his left side aching with a numb sort of pain and his head pounding. There was a strange sound, like the ripping of sturdy cloth, coming from further ahead, followed by a sort of stomping that made the ground vibrate. Arthur's heart started to beat faster. The beast still had to be close. Pushing himself up a little, he tried to look around and caught sight of it further to his left. Arthur's stomach turned when he realised what the ripping sound had been. The beast was feasting on a human body still wrapped in the tattered remains of a red cloak.

Arthur swallowed hard, pushing away the nausea, and tried to quietly feel around the ground next to him, but he couldn't find his sword. Never taking his eyes of the monster, he reached down towards his boot and pulled out a dagger. It was the only weapon he had left, and he knew how painfully inadequate it was - not that his sword had been of more use.

He could make out more fallen bodies strewn about the forest floor, but none of them was moving. A soft moan came from the other side of the rock next to him, confirming that at least someone was still alive, but the creature must have heard it too. It dropped its prey and turned, glowing eyes searching the dark and settling on Arthur's fallen form. There was a horrible intelligence in the beast's gaze and it stomped the ground again in a threatening gesture, shaking the trees around them.

Arthur's breath caught. The beast took a step forward, looking right at him, and Arthur tightened his grip on the hilt of the dagger. He knew he had no defence against this thing. This were most likely his last moments, but he was a knight of Camelot and he would die fighting not crouching in the dirt. He tried to push himself up against the rock behind him and felt a sharp pain shoot up from his right foot. It was probably twisted, his chances on being able to stand on it would be slim. With nothing else to do, he held the dagger in front of him and faced the monster, trying to calm his breath.

The beast charged. Arthur did not flinch.

Then, suddenly, someone holding a torch stumbled out of the bushes next to him. Upon seeing the fast-approaching creature, the slender figure only halted for a second before it stepped right in front of Arthur, his back towards him. Arthur couldn't see the face, but he would have known that ears anywhere. His heart, which a second ago had been filled with fearless acceptance, screamed in protest as Arthur saw his worst nightmare come alive in front of him.

''Merlin, you idiot, get down!'' he cried, desperately trying to stand but failing. He was certain that his heart had stopped, had shrivelled away unable to bear what was about to happen.

Merlin, stubborn idiot that he was, did not listen nor did he obey. Instead he held out the torch in front of him and raised his other hand, fingers spread apart. The next moment, the flame of the torch was erupting in a blaze, bursting towards the beast like a wild, living thing. The flames made it stagger and then rear up on its hind legs, and Merlin threw his hand out again with even more force and determination. Another ball of fire flew forward, and the monster screeched, obviously furious, but it started to back away and Merlin took a determined step, as if he was pushing his advantage.

He looked foreign, his shoulders squared with a confidence Arthur had never seen before, and a mysterious light playing around his face. Like in a fevered dream, Arthur found himself wishing he'd turn around so that he could drink in every detail of this Merlin, and still his heart broke a little for the young druid boy that had turned to him and leaned his head on Arthur's shoulder. This Merlin looked like someone else entirely, and Arthur wasn't sure if he was still his.

The next eruption Merlin send at the beast was like a firestorm, and the creature reeled and stumbled before it lifted up into the air with one powerful flap of its wings, flying off with another furious cry that faded away in the distance.

For a few long seconds none of them moved. Then Merlin whirled around, and Arthur could see, in the light of the torch, how pale and shaken he looked. For a moment Arthur thought his eyes were glowing golden.

''Merlin.'' Just saying the name was painful.

''Arthur,'' Merlin rasped and with a few quick steps dropped down to his knees next to him, his long fingers flitting over Arthur's prone body. ''Oh my gods, are you all right? Did it hurt you?''

''I told you not to come.''

''But...'' Merlin looked up at him, shock and confusion evident on his face, as if he was returning to his former, younger self. ''I saved your life.''

Before Arthur could say any more, there was another groan, followed by some shuffling, and then Sir Leon came staggering towards them.

''What in the gods name was that?'' he gasped. ''That fire?'' He faltered, obviously surprised to see Merlin kneeling by Arthur's side. ''And what is Merlin doing here?''

''He followed us,'' Arthur said quickly, feigning a grimace while his heart fluttered in his chest like a frightened bird. ''Against my express orders, I might add. Luckily, he had that torch with him and it seems to have scared the beast away.''

''A torch?'' Leon's expression turned even more confused. ''That didn't look like a torch to me, it looked like a whole fire storm!''

''Must have been a gust of wind, making it flare up,'' Arthur insisted, knowing full well how ridiculous that sounded. He could only hope that Leon had not seen too well what had been going on. ''We were lucky.''

Leon said nothing more, but he didn't look convinced and the frown he directed at Merlin was deep and questioning. Merlin, the idiot, of course managed to make it worse by ducking his head and fidgeting like the guilty culprit he was.

Clearing his throat, Leon finally said, ''Well we were definitely more lucky than poor Sir Cardogan.'' He nodded towards the half-eaten carcass of a knight, looking grieved and slightly sick.

Arthur winced. Every knight of Camelot was prepared to give his life for his king, and would do so gladly, but it was always hard to lose one of them.

''How about you, Sire? Are your injuries serious?''

Leon looked at him worriedly, and Arthur shook his head, signalling for Merlin to help him up. ''Only a few bruises, and I think my foot might be twisted. Nothing too grievous. Gather the men. We need to get back to Camelot.''

They made their way back through the darkness, Merlin riding next to Arthur as it had become their habit whenever he accompanied the prince. Normally though, they would squabble good-naturedly, or share little glances, and Arthur would roll his eyes at him when Merlin made a remark Arthur thought funny but didn't want to admit to it. Now Arthur kept silent. His mouth pulled into a grim line and eyes straight ahead, he did not even deign to look at Merlin.

Merlin tried not to fidget. So far no one had said anything else about Merlin's presence, but he had gotten quite a few confused or even suspicious looks from the rest of the knights. It was probably lucky that everyone was preoccupied with more important questions, namely how they could defeat a beast that seemed invulnerable to their weapons. Even the fire had not hurt it, merely scared it away. So the mood was appropriately subdued.

Casting glances at Arthur from the corner of his eye, Merlin became more and more nervous. He wished he knew what Arthur was thinking. It was obvious that he was angry, though Merlin didn't really get why. Yes, he had disobeyed Arthur's order, but he had done it to help him, and he had saved his life. The beast would have killed Arthur, Merlin was sure of it. So why couldn't he just acknowledge that and – oh, here was a revolutionary thought – say thank you? Merlin turned around to glare at the blond prat, only to be completely taken aback when he found Arthur staring at him with a forlorn expression. He quickly looked away though, and that was all Merlin got until they reached the citadel.

Even then Arthur didn't really meet his eyes but looked at some point over Merlin's shoulder when he spoke to him. ''Take care of the horses and then wait in my chambers, Merlin. We will talk when I get back.''

Then he stalked away to report to his father, or so Merlin assumed at least. With a dejected sigh Merlin, turned around and walked off to the stables.

Since the hour was late, Arthur had reported to his father in the king's own private chambers. It would have been an understatement to say that Uther was not pleased with the outcome of their mission.

''You had the beast surrounded, Arthur. You claim your knights are the best in all of Albion and yet you could not kill it?''

Arthur would have hardly described the events as such, especially since it was rather difficult to surround a creature that was airborne, but he was not about to point out his father's misconceptions.

''We tried Father, but it seemed to be invulnerable to our weapons.''

''Nonsense, you must not have struck it properly, or maybe you only injured it and that's why it fled. Why did you not pursue it?''

''My men were scattered from the attack and we had suffered multiple casualties. Sir Cardogan is dead, two more are badly wounded. And it would have been impossible to follow it in the darkness without having any tracks to guide us.''

Arthur did not mention his own injuries, they were minor and, when he managed to keep the weight off his injured foot, quite bearable.

''You will take more men and ride out again. And Arthur, next time I want to see results. We can not let the beast wreck havoc among the villages, especially so close to the harvest, never mind what would happen if the beast reached Camelot itself.''

''Yes, Father. I assure you, I will do my very best to hunt this creature down and rid Camelot of it.''

''See that you do. Now get some rest.''

''Thank you, Sire.''

Arthur bowed and then stalked out, gritting his teeth against the pain it caused him. He felt like a liar as well as a failure. He would do as he had promised; he would do his best even though he had no idea how he could possibly defeat the creature the next time. Steel seemed to be ineffective, and even the fire had only caused it to flee but had not left any harm to it. Thinking of Merlin and what he had done, rage welled up in Arthur again. He knew he was being unreasonable, knew that he had Merlin to thank for the fact he was still alive, but Merlin had disobeyed his direct orders and had used magic right there in front of the knights. How could he have been so stupid and reckless? Even if none of the men had cried out the one word Arthur had feared to hear most of all, he had been expecting it the whole time, all the way back to Camelot.

_'Sorcerer! He's a sorcerer!'_

Arthur shuddered, the images of Merlin on a pyre coming back to him, twisting his stomach and piercing his heart. He pushed open the doors to his quarters and was almost taken aback for a moment to find Merlin sitting at his table until he remembered that Merlin actually lived here now and he had ordered him to wait for him because, apparently, Arthur was a masochist.

Merlin looked up at him, biting his lip, his expression worried and uncertain. The familiarity Arthur had been missing in the forest, cut him right through.

''What in the gods name where you thinking?'' he rasped out, coming to stand next to the fireplace. He felt cold suddenly.

''Why are you so angry with me?'' Merlin asked back, looking petulant now. ''I saved your life, you clotpole!''

''With magic!''

''Yes!''

Arthur rounded on him, heart beating like a hammer in his chest as his fury came back full force in the face of Merlin's stubborn defiance. ''In front of the knights, Merlin!'' he spat, only just managing not to shout because, how ever angry he was, he was not stupid enough to not keep his voice down. ''Leon saw you! He's just not entirely certain what he saw but what if he or one of the others decide it was magic? What if they accuse you? What _then_!?''

He was breathing hard now, looming over Merlin suddenly when he had not noticed he'd even moved.

Merlin looked up at him and _something_ must have gotten through to him because he looked close to tears, but the tilt to his chin remained stubborn. Oh so stubborn. His voice was laced with anger and bitterness and his own brand of stupid loyalty when he said, ''Then you'd still be alive and that's all that matters to me.''

Just like that the careful grip Arthur had had on his temper was gone and he roared with the desperation of a wounded animal. ''But it's not what matters to me!''

Merlin drew back, mouth agape in shocked surprise, eyes blinking in honest confusion.

''What? Why would- ?''

''Because, _Merlin_ , I promised to protect you! And how can I do that if you go out and act like a crazy, reckless fool? Can't you see that I'm not worth you risking your life for me!?''

Merlin stared at him with unreadable eyes. There was something pained in his expression but Arthur was too upset to understand it. Slowly, Merlin pushed his chair back and stood up, grabbing Arthur by his forearms. ''Arthur,'' he said urgently and sounding as if he was seeking out some truth he could not comprehend. ''A lot of people risk their life for you. You know that. I mean... You're the future king!''

''No.'' Arthur fiercely shook his head. ''Not you. Not _without_ you. I can't- ''

He didn't know how to make Merlin see, didn't know the words to make him realise that he was too important to lose, could never be a tool, a means to defend something as silly as a title, but Arthur knew he had to. He had to make Merlin understand. Arthur's hands came up then, grabbing Merlin's face. He had no idea what he was doing, but his hands combed into Merlin's hair and then he pulled him forward, against his own body, kissing the younger boy with teeth and lips and tongue and too little breath left, but who cared about that when Merlin tasted like a paradise lost.

For a second Merlin was too taken by surprise to react, but then he wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck, pulling him even closer and kissing him back with eager enthusiasm. There was no finesse to their kiss, no gentle exploration, just need and urgency and desperation. Arthur groaned into Merlin's mouth and grabbed his hair tighter, wrapping one arm around his slender frame to assure himself of his presence. Merlin was running his palms over Arthur's back and shoulders, pressing the whole length of his body against him while he licked into his mouth as if it was spun sugar.

Their groins rubbed against each other, and Arthur dimly realised that Merlin was hard, just as hard as Arthur himself. His hands fell down to the swell of Merlin's buttocks, and Merlin moaned, mumbling against his lips.

''Yes, Arthur, yes yes yes. Gods, I should risk my life more often if this is the result.''

The words burned through the haze of Arthur's pleasure like a prick of ice. Within the blink of an eye he became aware of what he was doing, and dear gods, _what was he doing!?_

He pulled back, almost staggering in his haste, staring at Merlin in dismay. Still breathless, he took in the signs of his depravity. Merlin's red and bruised looking lips, his dishevelled hair and askew clothes. The wide eyes, pupils blown with what must be shock at Arthur's transgression.

''I'm sorry,'' he breathed, swallowing against the rapidly forming lump in his throat. ''Gods, I'm so sorry.''

''Arthur...''

But Arthur couldn't look at him, more than that even, he couldn't bear Merlin looking at him, couldn't bear to watch the betrayal that was surely marring his beautiful features. He turned away, staring unseeingly into the flames of the hearth. ''That... that will be all Merlin.''

''What?''

Arthur licked his lips. He was almost sure he could still taste Merlin on them. ''In fact... I think it might be better if you went back to sleep at Gaius' tonight.''

''You- you're throwing me out!?'' And there it was, the hurt, almost palpable in Merlin's voice.

Arthur pressed his eyes closed against the wave of shame that was threatening to drown him. ''I don't... I think it is obvious that I can't be trusted around you, but I will protect you, Merlin. At any cost.'' _Even from myself._

''You know what? Forget being a prat! You're an arse! And yes, a royal one!'' Merlin spat, his voice like a lash on Arthur's back.

Merlin stomped over to the door and, when it fell shut behind him with a thundering bang, the sound reminded Arthur of the fall of the executioner's axe.

 

Merlin would have sworn that he had never been so furious in his life – and, yes, it was fury that he felt, not hurt or humiliation or heart-break. It was righteous anger at that arrogant, pigheaded, insufferable clotpole that caused the pain in his chest and the sick feeling in his stomach. Too agitated to even stop and catch his breath, he stomped through the empty corridors of the castle, not even taking notice of where he was going.

He only realised it when he reached the roughly hewn corridor leading to the dragon cave, and for a second he hesitated, almost ready to turn around and go back to Gaius chamber after all. In the end the turmoil in his heart and head was too great though. He needed to shout at _someone_ , and maybe a huge, fire-breathing beast was just the right thing for Merlin to vent his frustration at. In a way, it was all Kilgharrah's fault after all.

He stormed ahead, ready to give the overgrown lizard a piece of his mind, but when he stepped out on the outcrop the vast, rocky dome lay deserted.

''Where are you?'' Merlin called into the gloom, but there was no answer. ''I just came to tell you: You've been wrong! Whatever you might think, Arthur and I don't share a destiny. It's impossible. And I'm done with it!''

A rumbling laugh came out of the distance and then the dragon descended with one, huge flap of its wings, settling on its customary rock opposite from Merlin.

''If only it were so easy to escape one's destiny,'' he said with what Merlin would have sworn was a chuckle.

''I tried!'' Merlin protested. ''I even saved Arthur's life from the griffin, but all it got me was getting shouted at.'' _And kissed. And then he threw me out._ ''How can it be my destiny to protect someone who doesn't want me to protect him?''

''I never said it would be easy. But the young Pendragon needs you as much as you need him. If Arthur faces the beast alone again, he will die.''

Merlin looked at the dragon in dismay. ''But I don't even know how to kill it! My magic didn't harm it at all. And he won't let me come!''

''The griffin is a creature born from magic. It needs powerful magic to defeat it. But as I have been telling you since the beginning, young warlock: you can not do it alone.''

''Wonderful. More riddles. Then tell me this: how can I help him if he doesn't even take me seriously?''

''Is that so?''

''He thinks me a child!'' Merlin cried out, frustrated. His eyes were burning – probably from the dragon's sulphurous breath.

''As you were when he met you.''

''But that's not what I am any longer! Why can't he see that? Why can't he let me make my own decisions? We are supposed to – '' Merlin swallowed, unable to name what they were supposed to be after all.

The dragon watched him with an expectantly raised brow. Merlin wished he wouldn't look so amused by his plight.

''You said we were meant to stand with each other, to protect each other. Doesn't that mean we're supposed to be- I know I'm just a servant and he's the prince, and we probably can never be...''

Merlin bit his lip and balled his hands into fists. He felt a blush creeping up his cheeks, thinking of what had happened before. Of Arthur's strong body pressed against his own, of Arthur's lips and hands and-- He probably shouldn't be thinking of this in front of the dragon, but he needed to know. Needed to know what their _'_ path lying together' meant.

''Can we ever be equals?'' he choked out finally, looking at the dragon imploringly. ''Can I ever mean more to him than a duty that binds him?''

The dragon's eyes turned almost sympathetic and he sighed, a hot gust of air blowing into Merlin's face.

''Destiny is but a path, Merlin. It is for you to choose how you will travel it.''

Another non-answer. Of course. How could he have hoped for anything more?

''I can not tell you all that the future holds for you, young warlock. But I can tell you this: This is not the end. It is the beginning.''

When Kilgharrah flew up again, Merlin watched him go with a churning bitterness filling his guts. Once more the dragon had managed to speak a lot of pretty sounding words that left Merlin just as helpless as he'd been before. Slumping against the wall of the cave, he sat and pulled his knees up. He didn't know what he was waiting for, he knew the dragon would not come back. It had imparted its wisdom and there was nothing more that Merlin would get out of it. He still felt reluctant to leave, more because he didn't know where to go or what to do instead. Gaius would let him sleep in his old room, of that he was sure, but the idea of facing him right now, and the questions he would ask to which Merlin had no answers, didn't hold much appeal. With a sigh Merlin leaned his head back against the rough stone and closed his eyes. He felt bone-tired and much too weary for his age. His exhaustion pulled him under and a moment later he had fallen asleep.

n

A knock at the door pulled Arthur out of his gut-wrenching self-flagellation. He had not moved from his place in front of the fire, and he had no idea how much time had passed since Merlin had left, but he knew it was late. Rather late for a visitor.

''Come in,'' he called, eyeing the door with a suspicious frown.

When he saw Gaius step inside, his face fell and he took a deep breath, ready to explain, to promise that something like his earlier misdemeanour would not happen again. But Gaius only gave him a fond smile and shook his head, which wasn't the sort of reaction Arthur had expected at all.

''When will you learn, Arthur, to pay me the courtesy of coming to my chambers so that I can treat you for your injuries, instead of having to hunt you down all over the castle at my old age?''

''My injuries? Oh, uh... their not severe. I'd assumed you had your hands full with Sir Bedivere and Sir Bors. How are they by the way?''

''They will take some time to fully recover, but recover they will. And even if your wounds aren't severe, they shouldn't go unattended. Sit down and let me have a look.''

Gaius put his medicine bag on the table and waved a hand, signalling for him to sit down, which Arthur did with some reluctance.

''Sir Leon said something about you twisting your foot. Anything else I should know?''

Arthur shook his head, and then winced when a sharp pain shot up his neck. ''Only a few bruises. One of its talons hit me and I got thrown off my horse.''

Gaius raised his eyebrow. ''Did you hit your head? Lose consciousness perhaps?''

''Briefly.''

Gaius heaved another, long-suffering sigh and then proceeded to examine him more closely. ''You have a mild concussion,'' he concluded after a while. ''Nothing too bad, you've certainly had worse.''

Arthur had to suppress a smile at how accusing Gaius sounded at this, but he must have failed because the old physician gave him a reproachful look and said, ''It's not a laughing matter, Arthur. Now show me your foot.''

Arthur lifted his leg, bringing it up to rest on the chair next to him, and Gaius started to carefully take off his boot. ''I'm surprised you're still dressed,'' he said with a frown. ''And where is Merlin anyway?''

Arthur looked up in surprise. ''He didn't come to you?''

''No. Why, did you send him over for something?''

Arthur made a face. How was he supposed to explain what had happened to Gaius who – he knew – had come to think of Merlin as something like his favourite nephew, maybe even his son.

''I- uh... asked him to go sleep in his old room for the night. I apologise if that was an intrusion on my part, but I didn't think you'd mind.''

''And I wouldn't have, but why wouldn't you want him to sleep here in his own room?''

Arthur squirmed in his chair and was immediately appalled at himself. He was the crown-prince. He didn't squirm. He just sometimes felt like he was still a little boy in Gaius' presence. However proud he was though, he was honest enough to admit to his own transgressions.

''I- I did something wrong,'' he said ruefully. ''I fear I might have hurt him.''

This time both of Gaius' eyebrows rose to his hairline. ''What did you do, pray tell?''

Arthur swallowed hard. He opened his mouth and took a deep breath, trying to prolong his confession, and he didn't dare to look at the older man, when he finally spoke.

''I kissed him.''

When no answer was forthcoming, Arthur finally looked up only to find Gaius smiling wryly at him. When he saw Arthur's frown, he shrugged a little. ''I can't say this comes as such a surprise to me.''

''What? Why would you-?''

''I've been watching you two grow up together in the last five years, Arthur. And while I wouldn't say that you've been obvious, neither of you has exactly been subtle.''

''Neither of-...?''

''Well, Merlin probably even less than you.''

Arthur stared at him with his mouth agape. Gaius only shook his head. ''I recommend you talk to Merlin about it, I'm sure it will help to clear things up,'' he said tying a knot on the bandage he had wrapped around Arthur's foot. ''My work is done here. I shall bit you a good night, Sire.'' With that Gaius packed up his supplies and left with another fond smile and a shake of his head.

Arthur remained in his place in front of fire for a very long time. His thoughts circled, almost cautiously, around Gaius' words and what they implied. He felt reluctant to touch it, but he couldn't ban the idea from his mind, now that it had been planted. He examined the evidence: Morgana's knowing smirks and Leon's off-handed comments. The suspicion that Merlin had some sort of crush on him had been a long time coming, had been all but confirmed by his own ears when Arthur had heard Merlin _moan his name,_ had _seen_ him--

Arthur swallowed and quickly tried to push away the set of images that particular thought evoked. He would not think of Merlin that way, not when Arthur himself had just behaved so atrociously. Because that was what it all came down to. Merlin was young and innocent, and he might be fantasising about his prince, but that did not give Arthur leave to take advantage of Merlin's vulnerability by forcing himself on the younger boy. That was an unacceptable trespass.

Gaius, after all, had been wrong about one thing: Arthur and Merlin had not grown up together. Arthur was no innocent in this. He'd been an adult already when he met Merlin, with all the responsibilities that entailed, and he had already grossly violated them in regards to Merlin. Arthur swore that he would cut off his own hand before he hurt him any more.

~*~

After a long, wakeful night, Arthur finally fell asleep in the wee hours, just before dawn made its first attempts to light up the sky. Unfortunately he was torn from slumber rather rudely only a few hours later. It was a testament to how exhausted he must have been that he had not heard anyone enter his chambers and only snapped out of sleep when the shutters were forcefully pushed open, right next to his bed, banging against the stone wall.

Arthur woke with a start then, blinking against the bright light of the morning sun falling on his face.

''Well at least today you are where you're supposed to be,''Merlin said waspishly, stepping into the shaft of light and looking down at Arthur with a grim face, his hands splayed on his hips.

Arthur winced, the sunlight had hurt less than Merlin's expression.

''I brought your breakfast, Sire,'' Merlin continued, with no hint of the reverence people usually injected into the title, and waved a hand towards the table. Looking back at Arthur he faltered a little though, as his steam and bravado seemed to run out, and he looked him up and down with a frown. ''I'd also offer to help you dress, but it appears that you have slept in your clothes.''

''Merlin-''

''No, that's obviously very efficient,'' Merlin said a little hastily, pulling up his fake smile.

Arthur, while determined to talk about what happened last night, was equally determined to not have that conversation while still in bed. He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and stood, turning to face Merlin. His heart made a painful lurch in his chest when he saw the misery the younger boy tried but failed to hide.

''Merlin,'' Arthur started again. ''I want you to know how sorry I am.''

The ray of hope that rose on Merlin's features was as unexpected as it was beautiful, but Arthur didn't falter.

''What I did last night... it was unforgivable.''

Merlin bit his lip but couldn't help the corners of his mouth beginning to curl with one of his bright smiles. It was too much, more than Arthur deserved, and so he ploughed on.

''I was upset and I lost my temper, but that's no excuse. I overstepped a boundary that's sacred to me when I-... I took advantage of you like that. I promise you it won't happen agai-.''

''What? Took _advantage_ ?'' Merlin bit out, disbelief warring with anger in his voice. ''What do you think I am, a toddler? _That_ is what you're apologising or? For kissing me?'' Merlin's eyes were blazing now. ''Gods, you complete clotpole!''

''What-''

But Merlin, apparently, was on a roll, and he stalked forward, pushing Arthur in the chest and making him stumble backwards, if mostly by surprise.

''Don't you dare, Arthur Pendragon! You hear me?'' Merlin spat, face twisting and eyes glistening with angry tears. ''I'm not mad you kissed me, you cabbage head! I'm mad you sent me away afterwards like a dirty, little secret you felt guilty about! All this time you hugged me and you kissed me on the forehead, but all I want is for you to kiss my lips instead. I know I'm just a servant and I know you will one day marry a beautiful princess, but don't you dare apologise for kissing me when it's all I've ever wanted!''

Arthur stared at Merlin, shocked by his outbreak. ''Merlin,'' he tried to explain. ''You might think that now. But you're still so young-''

''I'm sixteen!'' Merlin cried. ''If you were old enough to slaughter people, why am I not old enough to love someone?''

Arthur choked on his own breath. For a moment he felt as if Merlin had slapped him, and his expression must have made Merlin realise that because his face turned contrite immediately, eyes widening almost comically. He reached out with one hand as if he was pleading.

''Oh gods, I'm sorry. Arthur... I- I didn't mean it! I didn't...''

''No,'' Arthur pressed out, his throat suddenly dry as the desert. ''You're right. That's what I did. I made a horrible mistake and it still haunts me to this day. So I think it's rather obvious that I wasn't old enough, wasn't prepared for-- And I regret... I regret so much what I've done.''

He felt as if he was standing on a precipice. They had never really spoken of the events that brought them together, not since then. Merlin had never made any accusations, had not grieved – at least not in front of Arthur. Now that the words had been spoken, hang in the room like the echo of a bell, nothing seemed certain anymore.

''Arthur...'' Merlin whispered into the ringing silence that followed Arthur's choked out words. His eyes had lost their anger as quickly as it had sparked up. He made a hesitant step forward and placed his hand on Arthur's chest, gazing up at him softly, his expression pained. ''If you think that I'm one day going to regret this, what I feel for you... I won't. Not tomorrow, not next month or in five years.''

Arthur's eyes were burning and he desperately tried to catch his breath, tried to fight off the vertigo, Merlin's words ripping into his defences, making them all but crumble around him. Merlin's eyes held him in thrall and Arthur wanted to pull him in, wanted to crush him in a tight embrace and bury his face into the unruly black hair. He wanted to. So much.

Instead he reached out and touched the trembling tips of his fingers to Merlin's cheek. ''I can't- I'm not... It's not right.''

Merlin's shoulders slumped a little, his face turning blank. ''Is it because I'm a servant?''

''No. Maybe. Not in that way.'' Arthur closed his eyes against the surge of emotion, too bright and vast and deep. ''I have to protect you,'' he said, holding on to the words, feeling as if they were his only anchor.

Merlin's hand fell away with a sigh. ''I know,'' he said, sounding quiet and subdued – sounding resigned. He turned and took a step back, looking as if it was the hardest thing he had ever done, and then quietly made his way over to the window overlooking the courtyard. Arthur watched him, feeling as if every step Merlin took drove the dagger that pierced his chest a little deeper into his heart.

''I talked to the dragon yesterday,'' Merlin said finally, keeping his back turned to Arthur. ''He says the griffin can only be defeated by magic _and_ the sword. That neither of us can do it alone.''

He looked tired and suddenly nothing like the young boy he was. It felt wrong, all of this, but Arthur didn't know how to fix it.

''So I'm going to ride out with you,'' Merlin said, as if it was that simple.

''Merlin-''

''No. Arthur. Listen to me.'' Merlin turned around and the eyes that fixated on Arthur were distant and cool, like the surface of a mountain lake. Adult eyes. ''You know as well as I do that your weapons are useless against that thing. So if you ride out on your own, or even with more knights, all it amounts to is you committing suicide. You are the heir to the throne. How does that make any sense? So lets assume, just for a moment, that Kilgharrah is right. That the griffin can only be killed with the help of magic. Which is, by the way, what Gaius has suspected all along. Then, unless you have another sorcerer stowed away somewhere in the castle, I'm your only choice.''

Arthur glared. He didn't want to admit it, hated the logic in Merlin's words, but it was hard to refute the argument.

''There's hardly any harm in searching for a spell, is there?'' Merlin asked after a moment, when Arthur kept his stubborn silence. The way he raised a questioning eyebrow at him made Arthur feel as if _he_ was the younger one. He couldn't say that he liked it much, which probably made him react like the prat Merlin so often accused him of being.

''You want to look for a spell?'' he asked sarcastically. ''In Camelot? And where will you do that, I wonder, maybe the section of the library dedicated to sorcery? Oh wait, no, that is actually _forbidden under the penalty of death_. I know, it hardly means much to you.''

Merlin rolled his eyes. ''I'm just going to search through Gaius' books. That's hardly life threatening.''

Arthur blinked. ''Gaius has magic books?''

He had no idea why he was even surprised anymore, especially when Merlin just shrugged, as if the court physician hiding magical texts was nothing to be concerned about. But Arthur also knew when he was defeated.

''All right,'' he said with a heavy sigh, carding a hand through his hair. ''Go on then. I'll meet you there shortly.''

~*~

As it turned out there was a spell. Apparently, it was supposed to infuse the blade of Arthur's sword with magic, resulting in it glowing with a blue light. At least that was what the book said, Arthur had yet to see it because Merlin seemed incapable to make it work.

''I'll get it right tonight, don't worry,'' he promised, biting his lip and shooting nervous looks at Arthur who was watching him with growing exasperation.

''Yeah, that's really reassuring, Merlin. Tell me again why you coming with me is even a remotely good idea?''

''Because I'm your only chance?''

Arthur grimaced. Unfortunately, Merlin was right. He'd had a few more hours to come to terms with it, but he still didn't like it. Neither had it been easy to convince his father of his plan to ride out alone, but in the end Uther had to agree that it didn't make much sense to take a big group of knights. With the griffin being airborne, they would just be sitting ducks and, in the wooded terrain the beast seemed to prefer, only hinder each other. Arthur was the best warrior in Camelot, maybe even in Albion, and if anyone stood a chance to kill the beast, it was him.

Of course, Arthur had not told his father that he planned to use magic for that purpose. _If_ it would even work, that was. Arthur was still not convinced that they wouldn't both be riding to their doom.

When dusk approached, he went to meet Merlin at the stables, and found him standing with Hengroen, absent-mindedly scratching the stallion's ears. Arthur halted just inside the door and watched that quiet moment of companionship, watched as Merlin touched his forehead to the gleaming coat of Hengroen's neck, leaning in to him and whispering soft words that Arthur could not understand.

''You can say what you want about Hengroen, but he has never let me down,'' Arthur remarked, making Merlin jump a little. He stepped closer to the tall, black horse, coming to stand on its other side and reaching out to stroke the stallion's forehead when it turned to him, seeking affection. ''He has a good heart.''

Merlin smiled softly. ''I know. You told me that very same thing the day we met. When you took me with you.''

Arthur froze. ''You remember that?''  
  
''Of course.''  
  
''I thought-'' Arthur broke off, unable to force out the words, and ashamed of his own inadequacy and weakness.

''What?'' Merlin asked as if he had no idea of the turmoil in Arthur's heart.  
  
''I thought you might not remember much of it,'' Arthur finally admitted with difficulty. ''Since you never talk about it. About that day. About what happened.''  
  
Merlin was quiet for a long time. Then he looked up at Arthur with a small, self-deprecating smile. ''That's because I feel guilty.''  
  
Arthur stared, his mind unable to comprehend what Merlin was saying. '' _You_ feel guilty?''  
  
''Yes.''  
  
Arthur shook his head in confusion. ''Whatever for?''  
  
Merlin sighed and looked away. His voice was quiet, almost reluctant, when he spoke. ''I have magic, Arthur. Powerful magic. But I didn't do anything. I didn't try to help them. I just hid down by the river and let it all happen.''  
  
''Gods, Merlin.'' Arthur said with a heavy heart. ''You were just a boy!''

How could Merlin even think like that? Had he been blaming himself all those years? Arthur wished he knew what to say to reassure and comfort Merlin but, as someone who had always been expected to soldier on, Arthur had hardly any experience in those kind of things. Hesitantly, he inched his hand forward, along Hengroen's soft, warm nose, until the tips of his fingers touched Merlin's. It felt horribly insufficient, but it was all he dared to do.  
  
Merlin looked up at him then, his face sad but painted with a strange wistfulness. ''You were not that much older,'' he reminded Arthur. ''Doesn't keep you from feeling guilty.''  
  
Arthur looked down at his boots. ''That's different.''  
  
''How?'' Merlin asked, sounding honestly curious.  
  
''Because it was my responsibility.''  
  
''Actually,'' Merlin said wryly. ''It was your father's. He gave the order to raid the camp. He sent you out there. He made the laws that prosecute every person with magic, whether they use it for good or for evil. At least _you_ tried. Arthur, I know you tried.''  
  
''And I failed.''  
  
''We all do sometimes. But you saved me.'' Merlin slowly moved his fingers over Arthur's until they were loosely entwined. ''I know that you're different, Arthur. You don't think that way about magic, about... sorcerers.'' _About me._  
  
''No.''  
  
''And that is why I believe in you.''  
  
Arthur looked up, staring at Merlin's open and honest expression. There was so much trust in his eyes, so much hope, and something else that Arthur didn't dare name. Something he had shied away from all his life because the moment the delusion lifted was too painful to bear.

''I'm not worthy.''

''You are to me.''

Arthur blinked when his eyes became blurry and quickly turned away. Their hands disentangled, but Arthur could still feel Merlin's cool fingers like a phantom touch on his skin and he balled that hand into a fist, whether to get rid of that feeling or keep it, he wasn't sure.

''We should leave,'' he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. ''There is not much time left until the beast will have reached Camelot.''

''Yeah.'' Merlin nodded quickly and bent down to pick up Hengroen's tack. There was a blush on his cheeks that he failed to hide, even by turning away. ''Let's do this, then.''

For a moment, Arthur looked on as Merlin saddled his horse and then quietly took the bridle from him to slip it over Hengroen's head himself, all the while watching Merlin from the corner of his eye. He looked so scrawny in the chainmail Arthur had given him, nothing like a knight, but then he wasn't. He was a sorcerer. And a powerful one, apparently. With his head bowed and the long line of his neck exposed, he might look young and vulnerable – nervous, too, if his clumsy fingers were anything to go by – but there was a determination in the set of his chin and a stubborn bravery in the line of his shoulders. Arthur realised that just as much as he had been longing to prove himself at that age, Merlin needed to do the same.

Neither of them knew how they would fare tonight – whether they would encounter the griffin and, if they did, whether they would come out of it victorious – but already something had changed between them, something profound. Merlin might still not have managed to work that spell, but Arthur realised that it didn't matter. He trusted Merlin – trusted him with his life – just as Merlin trusted Arthur. Whatever might happen, they would face it together.

They rode out at dusk, Merlin behind Arthur on Hengroen's back. The spell had to be cast while Arthur struck the griffin, so Merlin _had_ to be there, but Arthur was determined to shield him as best as he could. If it didn't work, Arthur could take the brunt of the beast's attack and Merlin could try scaring it away with fire again.  
  
When they rode through the dark of the forest in silence it felt almost like a strange sort of rememberance, to another night in another forest, when they had travelled just like this. Only then Arthur had held Merlin in front of him while now he was sitting pressed against Arthur's back, his arms wrapped around him like an embrace. Much had changed since then, but some things probably never would because, just like all those years ago, Arthur was still trying to think of ways to keep Merlin safe.

''You don't really believe in it, do you?'' Merlin suddenly said from behind him. ''In what the dragon said about our destiny.''

''I don't know. It just seems strange to think that my life has been foretold. What does that say about the choices I make? Are they even mine?''

''I think... It's more like a journey. Kilgharrah said it was upon us to decide how we make it.'' Merlin was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again there was a painful note of dejection in his voice. ''Would it be so bad if it were true?''

Arthur briefly closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. ''No,'' he admitted. It was much easier to whisper it into the night. Holding the reigns with his right hand, Arthur took Merlin's with his left, interlacing their fingers once more before he pulled their joined hands up to rest them above his heart. ''I just feel that I don't deserve you,'' he said quietly. ''Merlin, you are too precious to me. And there has already been one person who gave her life for mine. I couldn't bear for you to join that fate.''

''I'm not going to die, you clotpole,'' Merlin mumbled against the chainmail between the blades of Arthur's shoulders, fondness audible in the warmth of his voice.

Arthur wanted to answer, but before he could open his mouth there was a screech coming from above that was quickly drawing closer, and then the griffin broke through the trees with the force of an avalanche. Arthur didn't hesitate. He drew his sword and steered Hengroen further to the left, into the trees. He could only hope that would slow the griffin down some as they circled around it from the side.

''Now, Merlin!'' Arthur shouted, keeping his eyes on the monstrous creature. ''The spell! I know you can do it!''

He could feel Merlin's arms tighten around his waist and then he began to chant.

_''Bregdan anweald gafeluec. Bregdan anweald gafeluec. Bregdan anweald gafeluec!''_

The griffin ripped up the earth with its talons, uprooting scrubs and felling small trees. Then it charged, and Arthur urged Hengroen on, towards it.

 

Merlin pressed his eyes closed and held onto Arthur's solid form in a death grip, chanting the words of the spell over and over again.

_''Bregdan anweald gafeluec. Bregdan anweald gafeluec. Bregdan anweald gafeluec!''_

Nothing happened. It wasn't working. Merlin was trying to draw on his magic, could feel it simmering under his skin and at the tip of his fingers, but the words his mouth formed were useless, disconnected and hollow. Fear gripped him, cold as ice, as he pried his eyes open and saw the griffin's approach. He was going to fail, and Arthur was going to die because of him, and the last thought on his mind would be how worthless Merlin had been after all. A stupid idiot, unable to live up to the expectations – to the grand destiny he was supposed to have. Maybe Arthur had been right to doubt it. Had been right in thinking that Merlin was just a scared little boy, not brave like Arthur.

The griffin bore down on them, and Hengroen bolted sideways with a jerk to escape the talons of the beast, stumbling in his haste, his legs nearly giving way on the uneven terrain. Merlin felt himself slip, hands clawing at Arthur's side in panic, but it was too late and Merlin's stomach lurched as he tumbled to the ground, dragging Arthur with him.

He hit the ground on his back, driving all air from his lungs, and for a moment all he could see was the dark silhouettes of the trees above him. The screech coming from his left brought him back to the present and the danger at hand, and he rolled up on his side just to see Arthur scrambling to his feet and turning to face the griffin with his sword raised, holding the hilt with both of his hands in a death grip of stubborn desperation. Arthur stood, with his legs apart, every inch a warrior, between the beast and Merlin, determined to shield him – to protect him.

The griffin seemed to eye him for a second, but it didn't hesitate for long before it advanced again. This was it. Merlin pushed himself up to his knees and threw out his arm, magic surging up inside him like a tidal wave of fire.

 _''Bregdan anweald gafeluec!''_ It was now or never. _''Bregdan anweald gafeluec!''_ Either this was Merlin's destiny or all would be lost. _''Bregdan anweald gafeluec!''_ If he could not do this, Arthur was as good as dead. _''Bregdan anweald gafeluec!!!''_

As anguish tore Merlin's heart apart at the thought of Arthur dead and broken in his arms, a bright, blue light erupted from the point of Arthur's sword. It ran down the hilt like a liquid flame and then spread over him, wrapping around him as if in embrace until it was enveloping him completely. The griffin didn't falter, just cried out in anger and jumped, and Arthur lunged forward, stabbing the sword right into its chest. This time, the blade did not glance off but sunk itself into the beast, making it rear and then tumble with another screech, rolling off to the side and down a slope where it came to a stop, lying still.

Merlin slumped forward on his hands, his harsh breaths loud in the sudden silence. The blue light was gone, and Arthur turned around to him, looking shocked and shaken for a moment before his face started to fill with the joy of victory.

''Merlin!'' he cried, eyes wide and face splitting into a broad, open-mouthed smile. ''Merlin, you did it!''

''No,'' Merlin said, shaking his head. He felt dazed, still brimming with so much raw power that he would not have felt surprised to see flames spring up from his skin. He looked up at Arthur and huffed out a breathless laugh, feeling almost dizzy with relief at the beautiful sight of him. Arthur was whole and alive, if slightly ruffled, and he was grinning at Merlin as if he was the best thing Arthur had ever laid eyes upon. ''No,'' Merlin said, starting to grin just as broadly. ''We did it! You killed it!''

Arthur shook his head with a laugh. ''All right,'' he said, still smiling, and came over to pull Merlin up to his feet. ''We did it. Together.''

They looked at each other for a moment, and then Arthur let go of Merlin's hand and instead reached up to cup the back of his head with his broad, gloved palm.

''You did good,'' he said fondly. Then his smile turned a little wistful. ''I'm sure... I'm sure they'd be proud of you.''

Merlin ducked his head. ''I'm sure so will be your father.''

Arthur winced and looked off to the side for a moment. ''Maybe,'' he said, faking casualness. ''At least he has no reason to be disappointed this time, I guess.''

When he turned his gaze back to Merlin, it held a trace of uncertainty. He took a deep breath, as if he was about to say something important, but in the end he just squeezed Merlin's shoulder, and then turned away.

''Come on, then,'' he said, throwing the words over his shoulder. ''We'd better get back to Camelot.''

Merlin watched him walk away, over to where Hengroen stood, further off in the trees. Watched as Arthur picked up the reins and soothingly patted his neck. There was so much more that Merlin wished he were able to say, his heart so full with it that he felt like he might burst. But the words felt thick in his mouth, too clumsy and too needy, and so Merlin swallowed them down. Maybe this, whatever it was, would just have to be enough for him. After all, his wish had been granted: he had finally stood with Arthur today, as much of an equal as he could ever hope to be next to the future king of Camelot. There was friendship between them, and loyalty. Maybe love, the kind Merlin felt for Arthur, was just too much to hope for in the end.

 

The ride back through the forest was surprisingly peaceful with the pale, silver light of a nearly full moon falling through the treetops but, even though they were both tired, Arthur could not make himself relax. The beast was defeated, the imminent threat gone, but between him and Merlin everything seemed even more complicated than before. In the deep of the night, with Merlin's warm body pressed up against his back, head resting against Arthur's shoulder, half asleep, Arthur couldn't help but admit – at least to himself – how he felt about the younger boy.

Arthur had never had much opportunity for pursuing these sort of gentler emotions. Maybe, if his mother had lived, Arthur would have learned how to love someone but, as it was, the people in his life had never made it easy for him. He supposed he loved Morgana – in the fierce and somewhat begrudging way of a sibling. And he would not deny feeling love for his father, though it felt abstract and formal and laced with so much guilt that it didn't compare in any way to what he felt for Merlin.

His feelings for Merlin, while not unfamiliar in the sense of self-sacrifice, were surprising in the tenderness they held and disconcerting in their intensity and passion. Arthur had no idea how he was supposed to handle such a volatile rush of emotion. He was terrified that he would end up hurting Merlin, knowing that whatever it was that he felt for the beautiful boy would always be in conflict with the duty he owed as the Crown Prince.

By the time they reached Camelot, Merlin had truly fallen asleep and Arthur had to nudge him awake so that they could both dismount. Merlin rubbed his eyes, yawning and blinking as if confused by his surroundings, and Arthur felt a sudden surge of such fondness that it was almost painful.

''I have to go and let the king know that the beast has been defeated,'' Arthur sighed, knowing his father would not take it graciously if he failed to report to him immediately, even at this hour of the night.

Merlin nodded sleepily, but then reached for the straps of Arthur's armour. ''Just let me...'' he mumbled, starting to take off his pauldron, and Arthur stood, transfixed by the soft look in Merlin's eyes and the closeness of him when he reached around Arthur to get to another buckle. When his body reacted instantly and completely out of its own volition Arthur didn't even have it in him any longer to feel ashamed, and that, more than anything, made him realise that he was in even deeper trouble than he had thought.

''It's late,'' he said somewhat awkwardly when the last of his armour had been removed. ''Just leave this with Hengroen's tack, you can take care of it tomorrow. You... you should probably go to bed. You don't have to wait up for me.''

Merlin blinked at him, face creasing in confusion, and he looked so sweet and ingenous that, before he even knew what he was doing, Arthur had framed Merlin's face with broad palms, thumbs stroking along his cheekbones. Merlin's eyes widened slightly, his lips parted in surprise, and Arthur realised with the sudden rush of mortification that he had just been about to do something impossibly stupid.

With all his force of will he refrained, and instead brushed his lips against Merlin's forehead, in the ghost of a kiss, before he quickly turned away.

He did not flee, exactly, he just moved with a certain expediency – because one did not leave the king waiting. He still had to take a few calming breaths before he was ready to face his father. Uther had stayed up, but then Arthur's father never slept much, an old battle wound keeping him up at all kinds of hours. When Arthur entered, Uther looked up from his paperwork and an expression of relief ran across his face before he reined it in.

He was obviously pleased when Arthur told him that the beast was dead and would trouble them no longer – so pleased, in fact, that he didn't ask too many questions how Arthur had accomplished that task. Uther was rather smug when Arthur admitted that the creature had not been invulnerable after all, but then Arthur left out most of the crucial details and if enduring his father's 'I told you so' was the price for keeping Merlin out of the focus of the king and his law, it was one Arthur paid gladly.

Fortunately, his father realised Arthur's exhaustion and bade him goodnight then, telling him to get some rest and sparing Arthur from having to come up with any more elaborate lies. His father's face was creased with tired lines as well, and maybe it was that which made him lenient and sentimental because, when Arthur bowed and was about to leave, Uther called him back.

There was one of those rare smiles directed at Arthur, and Uther sounded sincere when he said, ''I'm proud of you, Son.''

Arthur had to blink a few times before he managed to make his throat muscles work again.

''Thank you, Father.''

''I knew you would not disappoint me again,'' Uther said graciously and then, when Arthur silently inclined his head, waved him off.

As he stepped out of his father's chambers, Arthur had to think of all the years he had strived to hear these words, how important they had seemed, and how little they meant to him now. He knew his father would not have expressed his pride nor his satisfaction at the outcome of Arthur's quest, had he known how it had been accomplished. Had Merlin's role been known, the younger boy would not have been met with gratitude but with condemnation and the reward of execution. It had become a constant conflict for Arthur, the loyalty he owed to his king and the laws of the realm, and the duty he felt towards what his heart told him was right. Arthur knew the day would come where he had to pick a side.

Even though he was exhausted, Arthur still felt too tense from the battle, the lies he'd just told and the somewhat daunting presence of Merlin in his quarters. He knew there would be no thinking of sleep for the next hour or two and so Arthur slowed his steps, taking a few detours on his way back to his chambers. When he came past the staircase that led towards the dungeons, he stopped. He had not been down there, not all the way in the intestines of the castle, ever since he had searched for a mysterious voice that only a little druid boy could hear. Maybe it was time to rectify that. Determined, Arthur made his way down the stairs, giving the guards a sharp nod that banned all questions, and picked up a torch as he descended further into the dark.  
  
''Arthur Pendragon,'' the dragon rumbled with a hint of surprise when Arthur stepped out onto the outcrop to the cave. ''Well, well... To what do I owe this pleasure?''

That was a good question indeed, since Arthur wasn't entirely sure himself why he had come. ''Merlin said he talked to you. About the griffin. I came to thank you for your help.''

The dragon chuckled. ''Is that really the reason you came here after all this time?'' he asked with a sneer in his voice. ''Or is it to seek confirmation, since you finally have started to accept your destiny?''

Arthur grimaced. ''Maybe I'm here to tell you to stop putting ideas in his head that will cause him to go out and endanger himself!''

The dragon snorted, which caused a shower of sparks to rain down upon Arthur. ''It is not me, nor the knowledge of his destiny that encourages the young warlock to seek out danger on your behalf, Arthur Pendragon!''

Arthur scowled. ''You told him that it's his job to protect me since he was little more that a boy, and so he runs around doing magic never mind who might see it! What will you do if he's found out to be a sorcerer next time?''

The dragon raised its head and looked down on Arthur imperiously. ''The more interesting question is what _you_ will do. Would you stand with him or would you watch him burn?''

''Of course I wouldn't watch him burn!'' Arthur snapped, glaring at the beast.

''So you would endanger yourself for his sake? Risk your life and your future?''

Arthur's chin tilted upwards in defiance. ''Yes. Yes, I would.''

''Yet, you deny him the same.''

''That's different,'' Arthur ground out. ''Merlin is still hardly more than a boy.''

''And you think you do not deserve his love.'' The dragon huffed, sounding exasperated now. ''I do not normally concern myself with matters of human courtship, young prince, but I will say that you pay him a disservice if you dismiss what he feels for you. He might be young, but that only means his heart is true. And he is giving it freely.''

Arthur shifted uncomfortably under Kligharrah's knowing gaze. This was certainly not a topic of discussion he had planned to engage in with the dragon, but he could not ignore his words either. ''I'm not dismissing what he feels,'' he said defensively. ''I just-''

''You just think you are not worthy,'' the dragon interrupted him impatiently. ''An irony, if I ever saw one, since he seems to think the same.''

''What?'' Arthur frowned. How could Merlin ever think something like that?

''You are the prince; he is a servant,'' the dragon said as if it was obvious.

''That has never mattered to me!''

''Just how it has never mattered to him that you are Uther Pendragon's son.''

Arthur swallowed heavily. ''But I am,'' he said, bitterness creeping into his voice. ''And as my father's son, I've done things-''

The dragon sighed, causing a gush of sulphurous air to blow into Arthur's face.

''I understand that you feel guilt for the death of our kin, and I appreciate it. But do not think we don't know who is to blame for their deaths. It is Uther who hunted us down for as long as you've been alive, blaming us for his own sins. You will bring about the dawn of a golden age, Arthur, with Merlin standing by your side. You might be your father's son by blood, but you were born from magic and you have your mother's heart. Never forget that.''

And with those cryptic words hanging in the air it swung itself upwards, vanishing with the clanging reminder of its imprisonment trailing after it.

~*~

Beyond tired and laden with more questions than answers, Arthur made his way back up the stairs. He wondered what the dragon had meant when it said Arthur had been born from magic and his father was blaming others for his own sins. The dragon certainly liked its riddles. Arthur was still reluctant to trust the beast, but he couldn't help but mull over what it had said about Merlin. Did Merlin really think that Arthur was dismissing his affection, that he deemed him not worthy of Arthur's heart when it had all but belonged to the younger boy from the moment they had met? While Arthur's feelings had changed in their character and his desires over the years, Merlin had never been anything but precious to him.

When Arthur stepped into his quarters, he found the room lying silent and in darkness, the only source of light the soft glow of the low-burning fire. He walked over to the fireplace and leaned against the mantle with a sigh, staring into the embers as if they might hold the answers to all that was weighing on his mind. He had no idea for how long he had stood like this when he became aware of a presence behind him. Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw Merlin lurking in the shadows, watching him.

''You're still up.''

Merlin gave a small shrug. ''I decided to wait for you after all.''

Arthur pushed himself upright. Merlin looked captivating in the glow of the fire that was playing on his features and reflecting golden in his eyes, and Arthur slowly made his way over towards him. He came to a stop in front of him, probably standing too close, but he couldn't make himself back away. Instead, he lifted his hand and let his fingers dance along Merlin's cheekbone, down his jaw and across his lips.

''Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?'' he asked quietly.

Merlin sucked in a surprised gasp, eyes wide and lips parting in an unconscious invitation.

''It hurts me to think that you would doubt how important you are to me.''

''I do not doubt that.'

''But you doubt that my affection goes beyond the one a master holds for his servant.''

''I- I believe that you do see me as a... as a friend?''

The question in Merlin's voice put that statement to lie already, and Arthur could not bear it any longer. He bent down and pressed his lips to Merlin's, soft and gentle but lingering for too long to be considered chaste. ''Does this feel like friendship to you?'' he whispered with a hint of desperation.

Merlin swallowed audibly. ''No. But... I'm not sure what you want it to be?''

Arthur sighed, leaning forward until his forehead touched Merlin's. Hesitantly, he entwined their fingers. ''I still can't help but think that I don't deserve your love,'' he admitted quietly. ''But please don't think that I don't want it, because I do. I want you, Merlin. May the gods forgive me.''

''They already have, Arthur, just like I did a long time ago.'' Merlin drew back and reached out with his free hand to cautiously run his fingers through Arthur's hair. ''It's you who has to forgive yourself. Please. I don't want to be the cause of your guilt anymore.''

''Then what do you want to be?''

Merlin shrugged and let his hand drop, looking off to the side. ''The cause of your happiness, I guess. Isn't that what a good servant is supposed to be?''

The words were said with a note of mocking but Merlin's expression was sad, his eyes full of uncertainty, and Arthur realised that Merlin needed to hear it. Making a decision that had been a long time coming, he tugged on Merlin's hand and led him over towards the bed that stood bathed in the pale moonlight falling through the window.

Arthur could see the confusion on Merlin's face, and he pushed on his shoulders until he sat down on the edge of the mattress. Then Arthur sank to his knees in front of him, hands loosely framing Merlin's hips.

''Merlin,'' Arthur said quietly, looking up into Merlin's wide, astonished eyes. ''You have never been a servant to me, and you have long since become more than a friend. You challenge me in ways I didn't even know I needed, and I love that you don't hold back when you think you're right. You see beyond my title, see the man I am, with all his flaws and maybe the one or two better qualities as well. You might be the most brave and loyal person I have ever met and... I think you're far too beautiful for my sanity. So, how could I not love that? How... How could I not love you?''

An astonished smile had started to bloom on Merlin's face as he listened to Arthur's words, and his eyes were still a little disbelieving when he asked, ''You love me?''

''Of course I do, you idiot.''

''Beyond the love a master has for his servant?'' The smile turned bright and broad.

''Well, it's not as if you are that good of a servant,'' Arthur said, ducking his head. His confession made him feel awfully vulnerable all of a sudden, as if he had bared his very soul in front of the other boy. But when Merlin silently reached out and touched his cheek, mirroring Arthur's earlier caress, Arthur closed his eyes and sighed.

''Yes,'' he said. ''I love you way beyond that and beyond any measure of decency.''

''Does that mean you'd like to take advantage of _your royal privileges_ with me?'' Merlin asked, completely failing to hide the cheek in his voice now.

Arthur groaned and leaned forward, resting his head on Merlin's lap. ''Please don't even make jokes about that!''

Merlin, that bastard, laughed. He sounded completely delighted when he said, ''You do know that I want you to, right? I've been imagining it for quite some time.''

''Hmhm... I saw that,'' Arthur mumbled and Merlin tensed.

''You did?''

Arthur looked up with a wry smile. ''You might want to close your door properly the next time.''

Merlin blushed, but then raised his eyebrows, expression turning devious. ''Or I might just invite you in. In fact...'' He bounced a little on the mattress. ''Your bed is much more comfortable than mine.''

''Merlin-''

''I want you to be my first, Arthur,'' Merlin said, the rush of his words betraying his nervousness.

Arthur smiled at him, because how could he not, and then reached up, cupping the back of Merlin's head and pulling him down in a kiss.

''And I will be,'' he mumbled. ''When the time has come. It's our destiny, right?''

Merlin hummed against his lips. ''You better believe it.''

In that blue hour, between dusk and dawn, as the night was receding but morning had yet to come, they stretched out next to each other on Arthur's bed. Facing each other, they curled up on their sides and fell asleep. Their hands lay on the pillow between them, entwined, like the path that destiny had set for them and that was theirs to travel together, wherever it might lead.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Epilogue**

 

The harvest had been good that year; the stores were full to the brim, ensuring that the citizens of Camelot would not suffer from hunger and paucity come winter. With the additional relief of their prince having defeated the beast that was menacing the villages, the mood at the Lammas celebrations was boisterous and cheerful. The tournament had drawn knights from many of the neighbouring kingdoms, and Arthur had once more proven his reputation as the best warrior in all of Albion.

Of course there was a feast at the end of it and, being both the champion and a handsome prince, Arthur garnered a lot of attention and many an invitation to dance by the ladies of the court as well as one or two of the bolder girls from the town. Arthur indulged them, just as he indulged himself with the food and the drink, enjoying the merry atmosphere on that balmy summer's night. But even while he was twirling a girl around or drinking with the knights, Arthur's eyes kept finding Merlin – who had abandoned his half-official duties of serving Arthur as the night progressed. He must have partaken in the drinking as well because his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were alight with a joyful sparkle. Something wild and impetuous curled in Arthur's stomach at the sight of Merlin like that.

Maybe the wine had truly gone to his head, because Arthur felt like he was in a trance when he stood up, absent-mindedly waving off Sir Kay and Sir Leon as he abandoned their game of dice and started to make his way through the crowd towards his manservant. He felt drawn, almost as if by a hook and tether. When he reached Merlin, he clamped a hand around his slender wrist, making Merlin whip around in surprise, his face splitting into an even broader smile upon the sight of his prince.

''Arthur! I was just telling Guinevere here how amazing you were in the tournament!''

''Your Highness!'' Morgana's handmaid ducked her head and courtesied.

''Guinevere,'' Arthur acknowledged. Then he raised his eyebrows at her. ''Don't you think you should go and attend to the Lady Morgana? She has developed an alarming tendency to run around the castle in her nightgown of late. I certainly hope it's not because she's missing a maidservant.''

Gwen's eyes widened and she blushed to the roots of her curly hair. Looking mortified, she bent down in another deep curtsey and then quickly scurried away.

''Arthur!'' Merlin hissed when Gwen was out of earshot. ''That was bloody rude! What's gotten into you?''

Arthur looked at him innocently. ''I just reminded her of her duties, Merlin.''

''For all you know, Morgana could have given her the day off!''

''I certainly hope not, seeing as Morgana seems incapable to do so much as dress herself.''

Merlin choked out a surprised laugh. ''You're one to talk! Gods... you're  _such_ a prat sometimes,'' he said, sounding amazed. 

Arthur just smirked at him before he tugged at his wrist, dragging Merlin towards the castle entrance. ''Just admit that you like it, Merlin.''

''I'll admit no such thing!'' Merlin huffed, but he couldn't hide the laughter in his voice. ''And you were totally jealous just there!''

''You're completely off your rocker. Why would I be jealous of Morgana's maid? She's not even that pretty.''

They were both laughing now, stumbling up the stairs and along the corridor to Arthur's chambers, high from the wine and the glory of the day as much as each other. When they stumbled through the door into Arthur's room and let it fall closed behind them, they were already out of breath and Merlin didn't hesitate, pushing Arthur back against the door as he kissed him hungrily.

They had spent a lot of their time kissing lately, and Merlin had been spending his nights in the prince's bed more often than not, but they had yet to to do much more than that. Now, with that pure joy bubbling in their veins, it seemed impossible to stop. Arthur grabbed Merlin's face, taking hold of his hair and ears and jaw, angling their faces and pulling Merlin even closer, pressing into the kiss. He sucked and bit at Merlin's full, luscious mouth, tongues entwining, exploring and mapping out the territory possessively.

Merlin moaned into him, clawing at Arthur's shoulders and threading his fingers into the hair at the nape of Arthur's neck, only to pulled back a moment later and bury his face into the hollow of Arthur's throat. He mouthed along its length and scraped his teeth over a prominent Adam's apple.

''Gods, Arthur, need to... please, want you so much...''

Arthur felt too breathless for words; one hand combed into Merlin's hair, holding him in place, while the other one shamelessly kneaded the swell of a firm buttock. Arthur had wanted to wait, but he realised now that this might have been more for his own sake than Merlin's. His self-control had definitely reached its breaking point. Arthur's cock was impossibly hard, straining desperately against the confines of his breeches, and he pulled Merlin's head up with a groan. Arthur stared into eyes that were almost black and glazed with lust, and then dropped his gaze to the slack mouth, parted lips red and glistening.

''Merlin,'' he breathed. The fullness in his heart and the pressure in his groin was making his head spin.

Merlin laughed, happy and elated, and then let his heated gaze wander all over Arthur's body. It felt like a fiery touch. There was a glimmer of gold in Merlin's eyes and an almost devious pull around his lips, and Arthur gasped half-outraged, half-aroused by it.

''Magic, Merlin?'' he growled. ''Are you _trying_ to make me punish you?'' He pushed Merlin, making his obstinate little sorcerer stumble backwards into the direction of the bed. ''Take off your clothes,'' he whispered hoarsely.

It was Merlin's turn to gasp, but he got over his shock quickly enough and, with a challenging look at Arthur, shrugged out of his jacket. Then he took hold of the bottom of his tunic and pulled it over his head, causing Arthur to suck in a harsh breath. It wasn't that he hadn't seen Merlin before, but it had always been stolen, shameful glances – now he allowed himself to look his fill. He took in the broadened shoulders, and long, lean arms; the plains of Merlin's chest where the swirl of the dragon heads stretched out over his pale, smooth skin. Merlin was still slender but he was also strong and tall and held himself with a new confidence that made Arthur want to push him down and possess him all the more.

Merlin raised his chin and slowly pulled at the strings of his breeches. ''What about you?'' he asked, throwing the words down like a gauntlet and shooting Arthur a sardonic look.

Arthur had never backed down from a challenge. ''If you're in such a hurry, why don't you put your _talents_ to good use for a change?''

Merlin's eyes widened. There was a moment of hesitation, but when Arthur just kept looking at him, grinning expectantly and eyes full of trust, Merlin's lips pulled into a broad smile and he raised his hand. His eyes burned golden and Arthur felt Merlin's magic like a caress, as if it were his hands that moved over Arthur's skin instead, making his clothes fall away without a sound. They were both naked now and, if the hungry look in Merlin's eyes was anything to go by, he liked what he was seeing just as much as Arthur.

Arthur took a step forward, and then another. He couldn't hold back any longer; he needed to touch Merlin. The other boy was much too beautiful, lithe and lean, dark hair falling in wild curls around his head. Arthur reached out and palmed Merlin's hip with one rough hand while letting the other run up the smooth expanse of his torso, all the way to the long, graceful neck. Merlin shuddered, his own hands finding Arthur's skin, still a little hesitant and full of awe as they fluttered over the muscles of Arthur's arms and chest.

Arthur couldn't help but claim Merlin's mouth again, not able to get enough of the taste and the wet heat of it. Their cocks pressed and rubbed against each other and it felt glorious, better than anything Arthur had ever experienced. He grabbed Merlin's arse with both hands, grinding their groins together and moaning into Merlin's mouth. He could have kept kissing him forever, but Merlin pulled back and then climbed onto Arthur's bed, reaching out one hand towards him.

For a moment Arthur could only stare at this enticing invitation, knowing that Merlin was offering all of himself, right then and there. And Arthur wanted, wanted to taste him and touch him and bury himself inside of him. As if in a daze he crawled between Merlin's parted thighs, letting his broad palms glide up the long, slender legs towards Merlin's full erection. His own cock hung and heavy and throbbing between them, but Arthur took a deep breath, determined to take his time. He palmed Merlin's length, giving it a few strokes and then cupped his balls, rolling them gently and rubbing one long finger along the stretch of skin beneath it that led to the tight furl of Merlin's hole.

Merlin's head dropped back and he choked out a desperate moan. For all his cheek and new found confidence, Merlin had never been touched like that and he was trembling now. It was a beautiful sight: Arthur's druid boy, stretched out on the sheets before him, pliant and wanton under the touch of his prince. But Merlin was a boy no longer. With a smile, Arthur bent down and took Merlin in his mouth. Merlin's eyes flew open in shock, hands clawing at the sheets and hips bucking up helplessly. Arthur hummed and swallowed around him, and Merlin let out a shout that turned into an almost hysterical laugh, his hands coming up to grab and pull on Arthur's hair, pressing him down further onto Merlin's cock as he spent himself down Arthur's throat.

Arthur let himself be handled, continuing to swallow until Merlin's body went slack, his breathing still harsh but his grip relaxing. Then he pulled back, giving Merlin another long, lazy lick that made him shudder. Pushing himself up on his hands and knees, Arthur crawled further up Merlin's body and grinned down at him.

''Well, that was fast.''

Merlin tried to glare, but the boneless satisfaction in him obviously went too deep to give it any heat.

''Give me just another minute,'' he panted, ''and then I swear I will take vicious revenge on you, Prince Arthur.''

Arthur chuckled and kissed him lightly. ''I very much look forward to that.''

Merlin sighed happily and pulled Arthur down for some more slow and languid kisses. ''Do you have something for... you know?'' Arthur pulled back and looked at him with questioningly raised eyebrows, making Merlin blush and squirm a little. ''To, you know... ease the way.''

Arthur stilled, and then had to suck in a deep breath as a hot bolt of lust shot right to his groin. ''You want me to?''

Merlin nodded. ''I do.''

Arthur bent down and pressed another kiss to Merlin's lips. ''I'll be gentle,'' he promised. ''Make it good for you.''

Merlin swallowed. ''Have you ever...?''

Arthur grimaced. ''Yeah. With... one of the knights.''

Basically he and Kay had been curious and horny, but it had never been about more than that. Arthur wanted to tell Merlin, wanted to tell him that he was still Arthur's first love, but Merlin seemed to understand because he pressed his fingers against Arthur's lips and shook his head.

''It's fine. You don't have to tell me.''

Arthur took some salve from the bedside cupboard then, before he moved back between Merlin's spread thighs. Even if he had done this before, with Merlin it was completely different. Better. More. His hands were trembling when he took the lid off the jar and scooped out a healthy dollop.

He swallowed heavily when he pressed into Merlin's tight heat, preparing him and opening him like he had not been able to keep himself from fantasising before. The reality was so much more overwhelming, but also more awkward.

''Tell me if it's too much?''

Merlin bit his lip and nodded.

''You've got to... push down.''

''Okay.''

''Merlin...''

Merlin shook his head. ''No, please... I want this. It's gonna be fine.''

Arthur wasn't so sure. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Merlin. But then he found that spot, and when he rubbed the pad of one finger against it, Merlin let out a whimpering moan and started to relax. ''Gods, what... this... yes... Arthur... oh my gods, _please_!''

Merlin started to writhe on the bed, started to mumble and beg and curse, but Arthur stubbornly kept at it. Pushing another finger inside of Merlin until he could take more, until he was completely open and as relaxed as he was going to get. Merlin's cock had filled to its full, hard length again, and Arthur knew his own could not take much more. He needed to be in there, needed to push himself into that glorious soft heat of Merlin and possess him, finally, completely.

He turned Merlin on his side and pressed against him from behind, rubbing the tip of his cock along Merlin's cleft a few times before he took a deep breath – and pushed in. It was glorious, the heat and pressure but, even more than that, holding Merlin's trembling body in his arms. Being inside of him and wrapped around him and pressing soft, soothing kisses against his neck. Gently, Arthur began to move. He kept his thrusts shallow at first, mostly rocking his hips against Merlin's until he started to push back.

''More. Gods, Arthur, please... more.''

Arthur knew he couldn't last long like this, had pushed himself too far for too long, and so he complied, thrusting deeper and a little harder, eliciting the most beautiful sounds from Merlin's throat. Arthur wrapped his hand around Merlin's cock, stroking in time with his trusts until he felt Merlin shudder, clamping around him and pulling Arthur over the edge at the same time as he spilled over Arthur's hand and sheets with his second release. Arthur's cock pulsed and throbbed, and he bit into the crook of Merlin's shoulder, gasping against his skin.

Panting and shuddering, he pulled Merlin even closer, pressing against him as Arthur's softening cock slipped out from him.

''Are you all right?'' he whispered against Merlin's ear after a moment, pressing another helpless kiss against its shell.

Merlin nodded and hummed. ''Yeah,'' he sighed, turning around a little and gifting Arthur with that broad, impish smile of his. ''That was really...''

''Yes. It was.''

They laughed, and Merlin brushed his lips against Arthur's, his chuckles a hot tickle against Arthur's cheeks.

''So, you and Kay...'' Merlin mumbled, and Arthur sucked in a shocked breath. Merlin grinned up at him. ''Did you ever let him...?''

Arthur narrowed his eyes. He was well aware what Merlin was asking. ''No.''

''Hmmm... well, I guess then I can still be _your_ first. Right? Just as you were mine.''

Arthur scowled a little but, looking into Merlin's hopeful and eager blue eyes, he already knew he would give in eventually. He had, after all, never been able to deny Merlin anything.

 


End file.
